Critic: A story of a hidden Cynic
by Damian Cross
Summary: "Don't judge a book by its cover." Fred reads Hermione's true opinions of her friends. All is not what it seems. FW/HG COMPLETE
1. Patient no 1: Harry Potter

**Critic: A story about a hidden cynic**

She was there, as usual. He really shouldn't have expected anything different.

He noted the way she piled her books so that they towered over her. People thought she did that simply because she liked to study. But he knew better.

Fred, very quietly, shuffled closer. Every evening for the past two weeks, he found that she always occupied that particular seat, and always ensured that she was well concealed from the other occupants in the library. It was as if she was hiding on purpose, which meant Hermione Granger definitely had a secret that she didn't want _anybody_ to know.

Fred liked to know everything that went on in Hogwarts. He made sure that he knew all the secret passageways, the secret entrances to the secret places where no decent student should visit (as Fred considered himself above petty rules, he saw no reason why he should abide by them), the many secrets that people keep hidden (unsuccessfully), and knew almost every 'secret' relationship that occurred within the four walls of Hogwarts. So he knew that it was his duty to find out what Hermione's secret was.

He really had to thank Snape, truly he did. If Fred hadn't accidentally walked on Snape and McGonagall having a rare cosy moment, written a very detailed account of what he had saw (most of it, he was sure, was considered not appropriate for eleven year olds) and read out the aforementioned piece of writing out loud during breakfast (the first years would learn anyway eventually, he thought it was his duty to enlighten them), he would never have landed in detention.

At first, Fred considered shelving books without magic a great bore and that Madam Pince was a crabby old woman with no sense of humour, but things turned interesting when he caught Hermione casting furtive glances as she stacked her books around her. Finally he had something to aim for. Fred Weasley didn't look it, but he was very ambitious- just not in the direction his mother wanted him to be.

Fred glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind her. If he was right (and he was certain he was), Hermione would get up and take a bathroom break soon. Now came the crucial part- he had to time it perfectly so that he could see what she was doing before she had time to pack her things away.

Wait. Fred could see her uncrossing her legs- there was definitely an intention to leave the table. _Quick, do something!_

But what? His wand was confiscated, and he knew that Hermione was not interested in striking a conversation with him. She was far too intelligent for that.

Oh no, he could hear scraping- she was getting up from the chair!

Fred knew he was a very modest person. No, seriously, he was. He rarely flaunted his fantastic daily achievements, but what he did next astounded him to no end. If he could be his own idol, he would.

In the little trolley of books he was (supposed to be) shelving, sat a monstrous little book. Literally. _The Monster book of Monsters_ was never his favourite book, but it soon became it. Of course, people tend to actually read the book before deciding whether they liked it or not, but Fred liked to do things a little bit unconventionally. He liked a bit of action. Thus, he unbuckled the belt around the furry little thing, and threw it towards her.

Needless to say, he was very proud of the results.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective), Hermione had left her wand in the dormitories. Fred let Hermione believe that it was pure coincidence. But despite popular belief, Fred was actually a very organised and thorough person. He very rarely did things spontaneously; everything was meticulously planned. And this was no exception. Fred had stealthily stuffed Hermione's wand into a very comfortable arm chair beforehand.

So while Hermione was unsuccessfully cursing the book with the ordinary wooden stick Fred had thoughtfully provided as a replacement, he snuck up from behind and grabbed whatever it was on the desk. Later Hermione would wonder how he managed to do so without her noticing. Fred told her it was one of the many gifts that he possessed.

Now came the next part of his diabolical plan.

Run like hell.

* * *

Safely tucked away in that little handy niche in the Owlery, Fred examined the thing in his hands. He was sorely disappointed.

It was a diary.

How predictable.

He always thought Hermione wasn't one to write a diary; he thought she was much too logical for that. Apparently he was wrong. What was the point in keeping a diary? Nobody else was supposed to read it (again, he considered himself an exception) and unless you led an exciting life, the things that one wrote in a diary generally remained the same on a daily basis. Did he mention how incredibly _boring_ it would be to read it?

Hermione's diary was a small leather-bound book with the words: _Hermione Granger's private diary_ stamped on it in gold lettering. Well, there was nothing private about it now.

There was a small problem of actually opening up the book. There was a very simple muggle lock on it- but nothing was ever simple with Hermione. She must have set up a curse or something equally horrifying to those who dared to intrude on her privacy.

But Fred wasn't Fred for nothing. In ten minutes, he managed to pick the lock (it turned out all he needed was an ordinary hairpin- again he underestimated the abilities of Hermione Granger). By then he was beginning to think that all his efforts would be wasted on a pointless scheme.

He flipped to the first page, which had absolutely nothing on it save the quote _"Don't judge a book by its cover" _written in Hermione's neat handwriting.

Bored already, Fred lazily flipped to the next page. Unlike the previous one, it was crammed with writing. It was also written in a loopy scrawl that was most unlike her normal handwriting.

Maybe it wouldn't be a waste of time after all.

He began reading.

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_Today I did a lot of things. I woke up, ate breakfast, went to classes, ate food, then slept. It was a very fun, fun day._

_I can see that this 'Diary writing' is going to be immensely pleasurable. Not._

_When my mother bought me this book, she assumed, like the mundane person she is, that I would actually use this book as a diary. _

_Let's get one thing straight shall we? I'm not a diary person._

_Someone has yet to provide me a plausible explanation for keeping a diary. There is just no point at all. It's just giving people a way to blackmail you- unless you're Anne Frank- because then of course, a diary becomes a method for gaining fame. I have no intention of dancing in the spotlights, thank you very much. I consider my life as a whole lot of boring middle and am currently waiting patiently until the end finally comes into sight. It was already bad enough that it had a beginning- if I could go back in time and force-feed the woman who gave birth to me that contraception potion I read about the other day, maybe I'll be happier._

_Of course, that would mean I would never have been born, thus would not be able to feel said emotion. Oh well, one can hope can't they?_

_I think people consider it bad form when you insult your own mother. They definitely would frown upon the fact that I wish I was never born every time I blew out the candles on my birthday cake (note the irony). But since when have I ever cared what other people think?_

_So far, re-reading what I've written, I make it seem as if I don't enjoy my life. I do, really. If there's one thing I'm grateful for, it's that I was born into a world where so many idiots exist. People gape at me and believe I'm a genius. What they don't realise is that I'm not incredibly intelligent- it's the people around me that are astoundingly stupid. Geniuses simply do not exist. But there is, unfortunately, an overwhelming abundance of people who possess underdeveloped brains. _

_This is actually starting to turn out like a diary entry. I'm appalled. Next thing I know, my father is announcing I'm the next Princess of Genova, and that would simply not do. If I had to choose which Princess Diaries character I was to be, I would gladly pick Fat Louie over Mia every time. At least the cat was capable of surviving with three legs; Mia would probably try to commit suicide, fail, and then whine about her lack of limbs in that diary of hers. _

_Teachers tell me that I would make a really good healer or lawyer. But teachers are people, and people (who are not me) are, as mentioned before, incredibly stupid. I personally think that I'm a good Critic. If only people get paid criticising others, then that would be the perfect job for me. I don't mean being a food critic, or book reviewer. I'm not interested in what people do for a living. I'm interested in the person themselves. _

_The closest thing I know to a People Critic is a psychologist. Perhaps I should become one. _

_It's decided. I shall write a profile of each patient, determine their faults and recommend a suitable course of action-_

Fred could hear footsteps approaching. He shut the book quickly and slipped into a passageway that led from the Owlery to the corridor outside the kitchens.

He thought he knew his brother's best friend. He always reckoned that if Hermione had a hidden side of her, it would be that she secretly enjoyed cross dressing. It amused him to no end when he imagined her wearing baggy trousers accessorised with cropped hair- the image had helped pass the time many a time when he was supposed to be listening to the teachers.

But this- this cynical, contemptuous, arrogant, mocking new personality of hers was definitely not what he expected. She always seemed amiable to him. A bit strict, perhaps, but not condescending.

He plonked himself down into an armchair in the common room. What else had Hermione concealed from her friends? Was she a Death Eater? Or God forbid, Voldemort's illigitimate daughter? It seemed that nothing could surprise him anymore. Nothing related to Hermione that is.

"Fred?"

Dear Merlin- it was _her_!

Fred stuffed the book down the back of the armchair. "Why, if it isn't Hermione, the _friend _that I know so well!" _Not_.

She was eyeing him weirdly. "You're up to something," she proclaimed. "Please tell me it hasn't got anything to do with _Weasleys' Wizard Wheeze_ again."

"Don't you trust me?" _Because I certainly don't trust you._

"Of course not. By the way, have you seen my wand? I think I left it here somewhere," Hermione squatted down and peered under a table.

"I don't see your wand, sorry." _But I know where it is._

"Yes, but have you _seen_ it?" She was shuffling the books on the table.

"Not since detention," he answered smoothly. _Look at how well she acts! She should get an Auscar!_ (Or was it Oscar? He always got confused)

"Well, if you do happen to find it, can you please return it back to me?"

"If I see it, sure." _But I won't see it, because it's stuffed in one of these armchairs._

"Thanks. See you later Fred." She headed up the staircase to the girls' dormitories.

"Goodbye," he waved back. _And don't come back!_

Was she always so scary? Fred shivered in front of the roaring fireplace. He better watch his step from now on. But first, he must continue to read her 'Diary' – who knew what other bone shattering secrets she had written in it?

* * *

**_Patient Number one: Harry James Potter_**

_Problems:_

_I guess one must excuse his behaviour and personality on the account of the way he was brought up. But excuses can only reach so far. Harry is the most spoilt (a tremendous feat considering he was never spoiled), temperamental, violent, naïve boy I have ever had the misfortune to meet._

_It annoys me to no end when Harry suddenly blows up at us, and then expects us to understand the 'predicament' that he was thrown into. So what if, metaphorically speaking, he had a sack thrown over his head-I've never agreed with Dumbledore more; I thought that it was an absolute necessity. Harry has a tendency to rush into things without thinking about the consequences first. Sometimes I doubt whether he even has the ability to process thoughts. I don't think he does- he's certainly proved himself on many occasions. _

_It really doesn't matter if he gets himself killed- I couldn't care less, to be honest, if he did. But the fact that a single small mistake that he makes, on account of his stupidity, will throw the entire world into jeopardy will simply not do- I live in this world, and no way will I allow myself get killed because of one immature child's inability to think. _

_The only reason why he even has a shot at defeating Voldemort (another immature boy who still needs a lot of growing up to do), was because of me. Let's recount shall we?_

_First year: I was the one who found out who Nicholas Flammel was. I was the one who realised there was a trapdoor underneath Fluffy. I was the one that recognised the Devil's Snare- and conjured up the flames that destroyed it. I made sure he wasn't poisoned. Let's face it- the only things Harry really did was provide us a flute, get the key (anyone who could ride a broom could do so), and stall so that Quirrell would delay in murdering him. He also would have gotten himself killed if his mother didn't throw herself in front of him and died in his place eleven years ago. I wonder if she regretted doing that. If I was the mother of a hopeless idiot, I certainly would._

_Second year: I was the one that came up with whole magnificent plan. I was the one that stole the ingredients and brewed the potion (something that he would never be able to do in several lifetimes). I was the one that provided the drugged cupcakes, and thought to procure clothing big enough. I figured out what was petrifying everyone. Harry would never have saved Ginny if I didn't- and yet he gets all the glory. Talk about injustice and sexism. _

_This list could go on forever, but why waste time in dwelling in the past? Harry will never change (alas) and I would just have to keep pretending I support his useless campaign._

_Oh, and did I mention how completely and utterly dense he is? It is common knowledge that Ginny has liked him for such a long time, yet he insists on drooling after Cho. Doesn't he realise that she's much too smart and good-looking for him? _

_Recommended Courses Of Action: _

_-Partake in Anger Management classes._

_- Invite Voldemort to a duel. That'll teach him how important I am. And how useless he is once he realises he doesn't stand a chance. _

_-Take a photograph of him and Cho. Maybe then he'll realise how unattractive he is and melt into a pool of self pity. Wait. He just needs to take a photograph of himself; comparing him to Cho is just too cruel._

* * *

Fred couldn't help himself: he laughed.

In many ways, Hermione was absolutely right about Harry. Not that he would admit it of course.

He had been sneaking glances at the entry every few minutes because somebody kept entering the common room. It wasn't until he realised that faking illness and going to bed early was a better excuse to read in private than "I'm studying", did he settle himself in bed and pull the drapes shut.

He had decided long ago that this was something that had to be kept secret from everybody else; not even George knew about his little plan. Actually, in all honesty, Fred himself didn't know what his plan was going to be.

At first he was going to use this as a ransom, but it didn't seem to be a fulfilling prospect. He really needed to do something that will reveal her true character. But what?

It was past midnight now, but the innocent looking book was lying just within his reach.

Perhaps just one more entry…

* * *

**Would you believe me if I said this story was actually intended to be a One-shot? No?**

**I've always wondered if Hermione did a running commentary of her life. I do. I like to amuse myself by thinking up unflattering comments about the people in my life. I know it's mean- but its damn funny. Try it sometime. I highly recommend it. **

** I've also always like the idea of a cynical, patronising Hermione. I think she'll do the whole Mr. Tinkles act awfully well (reference: Cats and Dogs 2).**

**Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you like the story so far (and please don't kill me over what I wrote about Harry and Hermione). I'd appreciate it if you review. I'll always be forever indebted to you because you made my day, made me smile, and generally made me one happy person.**

**-insert the image of me groveling- **


	2. Patient no 2: Ronald Weasley

**Chapter two

* * *

**

Fred jerked awake. Glancing at his watch, he cursed mentally as he realised he still had a good four hours before he actually needed to get up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes wearily, wondering why he had woken up so suddenly.

The diary (well, it wasn't a diary, but Fred preferred to call it that) had fell onto his thighs when he moved. He hadn't managed to read another entry; he was so tired from thinking up ways to humiliate Hermione that he'd promptly fell asleep after considering whether he should read her entries out loud, just as he did for his story about Snape and McGonagall. Fortunately for her, Fred was very creative and hated doing the same thing twice. Pity, it was the best plan he'd come up with so far.

Fred stretched and stood up, pouring himself a glass of water. Careful to not wake up the others in the room, he tiptoed down the stairs and into the common room, carrying the book with him.

The common room was deserted, as he had expected at this time in the morning. The candles were all unlit, and the only source of light came from the dim, flickering fire. He gulped down the water, stretched himself comfortably in the armchair in front of the fireplace (coincidentally the very same armchair in which Hermione's wand was stuck in) and opened up the book.

"Fred!"

He was so startled he splashed the water all down his front. "H-hermione?" he spluttered, quickly stuffing the book down the armchair. It seemed, at least for Fred, that the armchair was the perfect spot to hide things.

"Why are you up so early?"

Fred noticed, with a growing sense of horror, that she was about to join his company. "The same reason why you are," he answered. He tried not to glance at the back of his armchair. "Studying."

"Of course," Hermione said sarcastically, "you're up _studying_. You have water all over yourself by the way. You really should dry your clothes before you get a cold or something," she said calmly, sitting down on a couch right beside his. "Normally I'd help you, but I still haven't found my wand yet."

Fred gave her his best sympathising (but totally fake) smile, "still wandless, huh?"

"Yes. I have a nagging suspicion that it's in here somewhere, but I've combed the entire place and, zilch, nothing."

Again Fred forced himself to look everywhere except at the armchair. He normally felt no regrets about his pranks, because it really was hilarious and satisfying when people act all paranoid. Of course, he always gave them back whatever it was he'd taken, with a bit of a grin and a smooth line to soothe his victims' temper.

But ever since reading that cruel (but, unfortunately, blatantly true) account about Harry, he was quite afraid as to what she might do to him. Docking off house points, he could take. Merlin, even if she got him in detention that required washing Snape's hair for a week (the hair oil! The slimy head lice!), he wouldn't be so frightened. But Hermione had admitted that she wouldn't have cared whether Harry died or not. Harry, her best friend! The person she's been through thick and thin with!

Unbelievable.

"Fred, I really think you should visit the Hospital Wing. You're eyes are glazing over and you're sweating a lot."

"Oh, I'm not sick," Fred said_. Just terrified. Are you waiting for me to be killed too?_

He dried himself by muttering a quick charm, before settling back down onto the guilty armchair. He refused to meet her eye. It was decided: he will definitely expose her as the murderous maniac she really was.

Silence stretched out between them as Hermione continued looking at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. Fred just simply didn't want to look or talk to her. He was beginning to wish he'd never even stole that diary in the first place, then he wouldn't have any qualms about using her as a test case for that new blemish amplifying cream he and George were inventing (its purpose was that if you wanted to avoid a particular amorous stalker, you can apply the cream on your face and gross them out).

"I'm going to bed," Hermione finally said, "good night, Fred. I hope you're not thinking about using students as experiment cases again."

_Can she read minds too?_

He watched her retreating form until it disappeared into the darkness before allowing himself a small shiver.

* * *

The next time he woke up (he wasn't even aware he'd fallen asleep again), the sun was shining and he was late for breakfast. Now that the common room was no longer shady (but was still deserted), Fred laughed at his own stupidity and cowardice.

Hermione Granger, a murderous maniac? What nonsense. She was nothing more than a very cynical girl who enjoyed making up less-than-satisfactory comments about her friends. Wasn't there that common muggle saying- something about words not being able to break bones? Hermione was certainly not able to break _his_ bones.

But he knew that her words were beginning to have an effect on him, even if he didn't want to admit it. Fred kept replaying the bit about Harry being grossly unattractive, how he was moody and extremely dependant on his friends all throughout classes that day. He'd always known his brother's friend as that famous-guy-who-doesn't-act-famous, just like he's always thought Hermione might have a secret obsession for cross-dressing.

Without realising what he was doing, Fred began to stalk Harry. He watched him talk with Ron and Hermione, (noticing the way Harry's fist clenched whenever talk turned to prefect duties- _hmm, interesting_) he watched how the girls reacted around him (giggles, a lot of nudging and knowing glances, but always from a far) and saw how Hermione ended up rewriting Harry's homework for him, while he propped his feet up and struck up a conversation with Ron. Fred also saw the way Harry stuttered around Cho, and yet was completely oblivious to Ginny's affections.

Fred was beginning to be seriously annoyed; Hermione was absolutely right- Harry _was_ a spoiled, violent, and dense boy who was incapable of independence and thought.

His constant glances and outright stares at Harry, of course, were not missed by George, who was beginning to question his twin's gender preference.

"Fred, how about we exchange the pumpkin juice at dinner? You know, try out our new hair potion," George suggested when he caught Fred looking at Harry for the fourth time.

"Pumpkin juice? Sure, love some," Fred responded, snapping back to reality. "Get yourself some too."

"Seriously, what is up with you? Don't tell me Madam Pince hexed you at detention today," George asked, torn between anxiety and annoyance.

"No, she didn't, why?"

"Because you keep looking at Harry- dear god, don't tell you _fancy_ the poor guy!"

"Of course not!" Fred exclaimed indignantly. "But don't you notice the way he's drooling over Chang even though he has a perfectly good admirer by his side?"

"You mean Ginny?" George looked thoughtful. Then he grinned. "I know where this is heading now…"

"I reckon, George, that as her older brothers, we ought to help her out."

"Why, Fred, of course. It is our duty after all. What did you have in mind?"

"Perhaps… a little interrogation might be in hand?"

"A bit unconventional, but there's always a first. Somewhere nice and public perhaps?"

"You mean like the common room?"

"What a _grand i_dea!"

So, sporting identical evil grins, the twins causally stood up from their chairs and sauntered over to Harry.

In one fluid movement, the twins shoved Harry's feet off the table and sat down in front of him, staring at Harry's bewildered face. Fred noticed how Hermione stopped writing Harry's essay and was watching them with a small smile on her face.

"Er, hi," Harry said nervously, exchanging confused glances with Ron.

"Hi there Harry," George said cheerfully.

"We've been quite concerned about your welfare this year," Fred joined in.

"What? Why? I'm fine-"

"Really?" Fred patted Harry on the shoulder sympathetically, "we _know_, man, how it feels."

"How _what_ feels?"

"You've been placed under a lot of pressure, you know, all this expectation of beating the evilest wizard and all. We just want you to know that George and I have got your back." _Leave this to me,_ Fred said to George without speaking. George gave him a small nod.

"Er, thanks?"

"You're welcome. We also feel left out too, so don't worry, you're not alone."

"Left out?"

"Why yes! Hermione and Ronnie-ickins here are prefects, while you and I are just ordinary students. A bit sad, isn't it, the way things turn out. I've always thought that _you _should've got the badge instead of Ron. No offense, little bro," Fred added to Ron, whose ears were turning red.

"I don't actually mind," Harry said nervously.

"You don't have to lie to _us_, Harry. I told you, we've got your backs. We know how it feels. Our_ entire_ family are prefects, but George and I aren't. Believe me when I say we understand the pain that you're going through."

"But-"

"And I'm sorry about before, Harry."

"Sorry? For what?" Fred stopped Harry from edging away by grasping him firmly by the arm.

"You know, for excluding you. You must have felt lonely and sad and depressed when you didn't receive many letters from us. I'm sure Ron and Hermione told you we were ordered to, _metaphorically speaking, throw a sack over your head_." Fred glanced at Hermione when he said that, hoping she'd recognise it. Unfortunately she'd grown tired of the exchange and returned to marking Harry's essay. Damn.

"They did tell me. I don't mind-"

"-Nonsense! But it wasn't a great way to start off the year was it, Harry? I mean, you've had a dreadful year so far, what with Umbridge, the not-getting-the-badge thing, being isolated from everybody else, not to mention Cho's still hung up about dear old Cedric-"

"-What does_ Cho_ have anything-"

Fred leaned closer to him so that only Harry, Ron and Hermione could hear him. "I happen to have a few tricks up my sleeve, my good boy. I suggest asking her to _take a photo with you_." Fred stole another glance at Hermione, who was still busily scribbling on that wretched parchment. But, he noticed triumphantly, there was a small pink tinge on her cheeks- _success!_

"Photo? How does that help things?" Suddenly Ron decided to join in the conversation too.

"Photos are wondrous things, little Ronnie-ickins. They help, ah, see whether two people look good together. You know how physical attractiveness is important to girls these days; they need reassurance so they don't _melt into a pool of self pity_."

This was fun, watching Hermione cringe every time she recognised a part from her analysis. The added bonus too, was being able to berate Harry. Nobody messes with his little sister. _Nobody._

"But enough about girls- tell me Harry, how did _you_ manage to find out what was petrifying everybody? How did _you_ brew the polyjuice potion? How did _you _come up with the whole plan at all? I mean, all these accomplishments at the young age of twelve- what a genius! You deserve to get all the _glory!_"

"-I'm going to bed," Hermione abruptly announced, getting up. "Goodnight everyone."

Fred enjoyed the way she avoided looking at him. This was _definitely_ better than reading her diary out loud in the Great Hall, because then everybody would laugh about it, talk about her for a couple of weeks, and then promptly forget about the whole incident (like what happened to Snape and McGonagall). However, by leaving subtle hints about him reading her diary, he was able to see her squirm in embarrassment. She couldn't say anything because that would be admitting that she was the one who wrote all those things about Harry. _And _he got the satisfaction of having the upper hand. Fred silently awarded himself a medal for this plan- it was definitely the subtlest plan he'd ever come up with, but by Merlin, the reward was _so _satisfactory.

Unexpectedly, Hermione had brought out a side of him he never knew- he really and truly enjoyed the whole interrogation thing. Maybe instead of opening up a joke shop, he should go and work in Azkaban- you know, interrogate the Dementors about their fear of happiness. That might be fun.

Fred watch Hermione bite her lip and glance anxiously at him as she walked by. He gave her a small wink. "Found your wand yet?"

"No, I haven't. Have you found yours?"

"I've got my wand-" Fred felt around in his pockets. "Hey, I've lost it!"

"Goodnight Fred." She gave him a small smile and left.

Fred stared at her retreating form, silently seething.

* * *

**Patient Number Two: Ronald Bilius Weasley**

_Problems:_

_Apart from his outrageously bright hair and unfortunate complexion, there really are no other things that I can compliment him about. His personality, for one, is hideous, his habits are absurd, and, quite frankly, I wonder if he even possesses a brain. It is one of my dearest wishes to grab a scalpel and examine him under the microscope- how can a person who is so profoundly dumb, manage to survive so long? How bottomless is his stomach anyway? How many chews and bites does he have left until his jaw unhinges? That boy is a medical miracle. _

_I'm quite concerned about his lack of vocabulary as well. It seems like the only words he knows are "Blimey," "Bloody hell" and "Dunno"- yet he insists on laughing at Crabbe and Goyle's intelligence or lack thereof. If I wasn't so nice, I would've laughed at the irony. But I guess, like Patient No. one, excuses must be made on account of his upbringing. Having an enormous amount of siblings before him, Ron has an annoying habit of comparing himself to those around him. Unfortunately, it does nothing for his self confidence-especially when compared to me. _

_It is also absolutely annoying how Harry considers Ron his best friend, and yet, when things become difficult, he comes running to me. It seems-at least to Harry- that Ron is the better friend. I beg to differ. The only thing Ron is good at is his irritating ability to make jokes at the wrong time, and to provide utterly useless advice. But considering the type of person Harry is, I'm not surprised he considers Ron his best friend. Harry's famousness must provide some sort of compensation for Ron's anonymity. _

_Speaking of which, how did Ron get the prefect badge? Wonders may never cease to amaze me. I mean, I would have questioned McGonagall's ability to make decisions, but seeing as she chose me as the other prefect, she must have a functioning brain. Or maybe it was just a lapse of judgement; after all, the woman is getting old. _

_Furthermore on this subject, Ron is the most insufferable, incapable prefect I have ever had the misfortune to meet. He is a cowardly and stupid boy who pretends to be otherwise. This is quite sad, as everybody knows he's too scared to tell off his own brothers. He must feel quite inferior in his abnormally large family, being the youngest boy, and must also feel so frustrated that the only sibling who is younger than him is a girl, and therefore his mother's favourite. After all, it's not like he has any accomplishments he can boast about- other than being the stupidest one in the family, that is. _

_It is also funny how oblivious he is- does he not realise Lavender Brown fancies him? Considering she only speaks about wanting to snog him at every possible moment, and a lot of the time in front of him, I'm astounded at how deaf and blind he is. Doesn't he know that they'll make such a great couple? Unlike Cho and Harry, these two are made for each other. They have the same irritating and insensitive personality, they adopt the same annoying tone when they talk, and, as a bonus, they even have an IQ equivalent to each other! That truly is a miracle, considering how low Ron's is. _

_Recommended Courses of Action:_

_-Hand himself over to me so I can examine him under the microscope (I'll have to kill him in the process, but he really isn't sacrificing much- I can already foresee that his future will be horrible at the best.)_

_-Persuade Molly and Arthur to give him up for adoption. (One less son to humiliate them)._

_-Tell Ron to get a sex change, that way Molly will like him too. _

_-Send him on a blind date with Lavender so they can ruin each other's lives.

* * *

_

Fred was so absorbed into the book, that he didn't realise Hermione was descending the stairs into the common room. It seemed like the girl never slept; it was now four thirty in the morning (Fred wanted to read in peace), and yet, like yesterday, she was here, prepared to bother the hell out of him.

"What are you reading?" Her soft voice cut through the silence like an axe hacking down the whomping willow.

Fred jumped- spilling the glass of water he'd brought down. "Studying," he said unconvincingly. "Why are you up so early?"

Hermione settled herself onto the same chair she'd occupied the morning before. "Couldn't sleep- still haven't found my wand. Have you?"

"Yes- it's in your room." _Hah! Take that!_

Hermione blinked. "No it isn't- what makes you think _I_ took it? Stealing is against the rules."

Fred scowled, "I know you have it. Hand it over."

"Not until you give me mine back- I know you stole it."

He didn't even try to deny it. "How'd you know?"

"The stick that you _thoughtfully_ provided as a replacement had your initials on it," she held it up so that he could see for himself.

"Well, I like to get some sort of recognition for all my troubles," he gave her a wink, at the same time he tucked the book under the cushion. "Did you like my gift?"

"Don't bother trying to charm me, Fred Weasley," Hermione snapped, "Where is it?"

Fred tilted his head to one side, "where is what?"

"My. Diary." She managed to spit out. "I had it in the library. I know it was _you_ who set the Monster Book on me."

"I don't know anything about a diary, Hermione, truly." _It isn't a diary,_ he thought in a sing-song voice, _you said so yourself!_

"Then what was it that you were reading?" Hermione looked accusingly at the cushion.

"A file," Fred replied, liking the way her face was all scrunched up. She was the only girl he knew who could pull off the 'I'm-totally-pissed' look.

"File?"

"Well, more like a Critic's analysis of their patients."

Hermione froze. "Oh. Well, that's not my…. Diary," she said calmly, but Fred saw the way she clenched her fists. And the way her pinks were red. And how her voice had a slight tremble to it.

_Wow,_ Fred thought, _I'm impressed- who knew I was observant?_

"Funny- it had your name on it," He wondered how far he could push her.

Hermione bit on her lip. "Can you please… not tell anyone about this?" She begged. Her brown eyes gazed up into his own blue ones, sending shivers down his spine. Fred tried to look away, but he found he couldn't- were those hazel flecks in her eyes? How very… attractive. He didn't realise before that her eyelashes were so long, or that her eyes were so alluring…

_Hermione? Attractive? Hah. As if. She's just got good eyes, that's all. _

Fred blinked and cleared his throat. That was better. He wondered what spell Hermione had cast on him to make him feel like that. She really was one sneaky witch.

"What's in it for me?" Back to business, Fred scolded himself.

Suddenly, those eyes that were so innocent before flashed and gave him a murderous stare. "Forget it," Hermione said coldly, getting up from the chair, "I wasn't affected by what that Skeeter cow wrote about me last year, what makes you think I'll be affected by this? I wrote it after all, and you and I know both know I only write the truth."

"Hermione-"

"-Good night, Fred. I hope you enjoy invading in other people's privacy."

She didn't slam the door to the girl's dormitories, but he wish she had. He'd almost prefer it to the way she'd looked at him with so much hatred in her eyes.

He took out the book from behind the cushion, but found that he couldn't make himself read another entry. He sat there, looking at the orange flames licking the logs, wondering what was it that made him want Hermione's forgiveness so badly.

* * *

**Thanks to all of you that reviewed! You guys made my day :)**

**As I said in the last chapter, this was intended to be a one-shot, but then it somehow turned into a longer fic. Stories are funny that way- if they don't want to end early, they don't.**

**Anyway, I originally also didn't want this to be a romantic fic, as I'm all for dramione, but I've giving it a try. **

**Be warned though: this is the first time ever I've written about a romance occuring between Fred and Hermione- I've never even read a fanfic regarding these two. So sometimes Fred and Hermione might seem OOC, or somehow they just suddenly fall in love, I'm trying not to let this happen though. So please bear with me and feel free to give me some advice.**

**Please continue to read and review! **


	3. Patient no 3: Ginerva Weasley

**Chapter three**

* * *

The next day found Fred avoiding Hermione like the plague. Instead of smirking and laughing at her when she told him off for experimenting for students, he now mumbled a quiet apology, shot her a look that was half murderous, half frightened, and dragged George and Lee Jordan away before she could open her big mouth again.

His behaviour, as with his stalking Harry yesterday, did not go unnoticed by George, who was beginning to be seriously worried. He was so desperate, thinking that Fred was turning into a coward on top of being gay, that he wrote, secretly, to his brother Bill.

_"Hey Bill. _

_How's Gringotts? Is mum still after cutting your hair? Are you turning into a coward? Are you gay? How's Fleur taking it?_

_-George_

_P.S. - I think Fred is turning gay. And he's turning into a coward._

_P.P.S. –I know you aren't a coward and nor are you gay. I just didn't know how to bring the subject up."_

George was not against his brother being gay. He was not prejudiced. But he was worried that because he himself was so good-looking (again, George, like Fred, was very modest and humble) Fred would start hitting on _him._ That would not be a good idea, because that would be incest, and just the very thought made George rush out of Potions and into the Hospital Wing, claiming that he'd finally had enough of smelling Snape's hair oil, and that it was making him very nauseous. Which was partly true, actually.

"You're the second person to come in here today, for the exact same reason," Madam Pomfrey informed George whilst pouring a tonic into his goblet.

George gulped down the contents, before choking out, "Who was the other one?"

She frowned, trying to remember. "I believe it was that Gryffindor girl who was petrified a few years ago. Grant- I think her last name was."

He raised an eyebrow, "Granger? Hermione Granger?"

She clapped her hands, "Yes! The girl who I shrunk the teeth for!"

George fell silent. It was most unlike Hermione to skive off class, and was definitely most strange that she used such a poor (but extremely funny) excuse. He replayed the interrogation that took place yesterday, not able to shake off the feeling that Hermione was the reason why Fred was acting so strangely.

"Hmm, well," She took the empty goblet from him, "you can go now, Mister Weasley. Take the rest of the period off- Here's a note."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." George pocketed the piece of parchment and swung out of bed.

Just as he was about to close the door, he heard Madam Pomfrey mutter in a very annoyed voice, "I really should prescribe Professor Snape some shampoo!"

* * *

Ron smoothed the hairs on the back of his neck down. Fred's stare, was, quite frankly, starting to scare him quite a bit. It was dinner, and normally Ron considered it the best part of the day, but today he just couldn't find the appetite to eat.

"You okay Ron?" Harry asked as he helped himself to a second round of roast chicken and gravy.

Ron bent down so that he could whisper in his ear. "Fred's staring at me. It's freaky."

Harry swivelled around to look. Sure enough, the red headed twin was sitting across from them, three seats down, his blue eyes boring into his brothers with his arms crossed firmly across his chest. Beside him, looking quite agitated, sat George, who was darting looks between his twin and his younger brother.

At last Ron managed to find the courage to blurt out, "Would you cut that out? It's bloody scary!"

Fred blinked, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. "Sorry little bro," he smirked. Normally he would crack a joke, but tonight he turned back to eating his food.

George was positively fuming right now. _How is Ron better looking than me?_ He wondered, _Not that I want Fred to be gay, but still, does the guy have no eyes at all? I would definitely choose me!_

He caught sight of Hermione, who was several seats down from him. She was looking quite red in the face, and her eyes were swollen and blood-shot. It was quite obvious that she had been crying.

He waited until they were all safely in the Gryffindor common room before asking Fred whether he knew about why she was upset.

Fred's reaction was very interesting, to say the least, when he heard this question. He began to stop staring at Ron and instead blushed heavily. It was the first time he'd ever blushed during his time in Hogwarts. George was, officially, concerned about his twin now. If this continued, he'd have to owl Percy for advice. _Percy,_ for Merlin's sake! The only sibling he'd ever detested!

Even George was beginning to question his sanity.

"Well?" he prodded Fred.

Fred cleared his throat, "I think it had to do with a prank I pulled," he finally admitted. "I regretted doing it afterwards."

George was amazed; since when did Fred pull off pranks without him? He had to confess that he was angry at Fred for leaving him out on a joke. He had always believed that they would be the Trickster Duo.

"What did you do?"

Fred sighed. "I stole a… diary, of a sort, from her. She found out, I refused to return it to her, and now she's furious with me."

George was stumped, "that's it? And you're feeling remorse?" he shook his head, "we've done far worse than stealing a mere diary."

Fred hesitated, deciding whether he should tell George the whole thing or not. He glanced at George, who was displaying all symptoms of annoyance. Yes, Fred thought, he could trust George. After all, they were twins, and they ought to share everything.

"It's more than a diary," he said in a low voice, "It's… hard to explain, I'll have to show it to you instead. I hid it in an armchair, and somebody's sitting in it right now. I normally read it in the morning."

_No wonder he had bags under his eyes_, George thought. Out loud he said, "Okay, show me tomorrow morning."

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron was trying to comfort Hermione, but without success.

"He's a bloody git," Ron said angrily, "don't let him get you."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "It's not like the first time he's picked on you. Ron and I will get him back tomorrow, make things even." His green eyes sparkled as he thought of the possibilities.

"No," Hermione said sternly, "I'm not going to be the reason why you two broke the rules. Again. I'm fine, honest. I just had a lousy day already, and he made it worse."

Ron shook his head sadly, "You're too nice, Hermione," he announced, "Here, have a chocolate frog." He forced one into her hand and popped another in his mouth. "Ahh, so mush better!" he sighed, chewing.

Hermione stared at the confectionary in her hand, before taking a small bite. "Thanks, Ron," she said, her face brightening. She looked up just as Fred and George started to walk towards her.

"Hi there," George said cheerfully, "Excellent, thanks for the frog, Ron." He snatched the remaining candy out of Ron's hands, ignoring his protests.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked Hermione, pretending to not notice her accusing glare. She refused to answer his question, instead focusing on biting the frog viciously. First she beheaded it with a ferocious bite, chewing it nice and slow, then she amputated its limbs, one by one, all the time looking pointedly at him. He shivered.

It was Harry who answered his question. "It's Malfoy," he sighed, "He, uh, said some pretty nasty things to her, and Snape ignored the whole thing and… yeah."

George fleetingly remembered what Madam Pomfrey had said in the morning. He frowned, "you okay? Don't worry, we'll make the little prat pay." His face glowed as ideas came springing into his head, "We learnt about animagi today- perhaps a reminder of the great, bouncing ferret would shut him up?"

Fred snorted, relaxing now that he knew he was not the source of Hermione's crying. "That's just ripping off Mad-eye," he told his twin, "no, we need something better."

His eyes locked, once again, with Ron's. Ron tried not to throw up. "_Bloody hell!_ Would you stop staring at me?" he yelled. "_Blimey _Fred, it's freaking me out!"

The corners of Fred's mouth twitched as he recalled what Hermione had said about Ron's use of vocabulary.

"Why do you think he keeps doing that?" Harry muttered to Ron.

"_Dunno_," Ron glared at Fred, who was clutching his stomach and positively rolling over on the carpet.

Hermione caught onto what Fred was laughing about. She bit the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from chuckling. Then she remembered she hated him, and resumed her stony expression.

Fred calmed himself down at last. "I'll tell you later," he muttered to a bewildered George.

Hermione stood up, glancing at her watch. "Prefect duties," she reminded Ron.

Ron groaned, "Oh, right. Forgot about that."

"Careful," Fred warned him, "some people would start to think that you don't deserve the title. But don't worry, I know you do."

His younger brother frowned at him, "I thought you considered having prefects in the family shameful?"

Fred didn't miss a beat. "Precisely," he winked at Ron.

It took Ron a few moments before he realised his meaning. He glared at Fred, but, being unable to come up with a retort, trailed after Hermione dejectedly.

Fred settled himself down onto the chair that Ron had occupied so that he was face-to-face with Harry. The younger boy fleetingly remembered the extremely uncomfortable conversation he had yesterday with the twins, and made to get up quickly.

George, knowing Fred's intentions as always, grabbed him by the shoulder and firmly held Harry down. "Let us help you pack your things up," George said kindly, but threateningly.

"Er, no, I'm fine thanks," Harry said hastily.

Fred immediately switched to interrogation mode. "So, Harry, do _you_ think Ron deserves to be prefect?"

"Of course I do!" But Fred didn't miss the sour tone that Harry tried to hide.

"Really? Because I'll let you on in a little secret," Fred bent down, "George and I both reckon that you deserve it more."

Harry remained silent, but neither of the twins missed the startled look flash across his face.

Fred leaned back against the chair. "I mean, look at all your accomplishments! Finding the trapdoor, getting rid of the Devil's Snare, solving the potion logic puzzle _and_ the mystery as to how the basilisk was getting around the castle, not to mention managing to learn the Summoning spell all by yourself, coming up with the whole Dumbledore's Army thing… my god, Harry, you've done all these things! And what did Ron do? Win a chess game, doubt his own friend and then ignored him all summer…" he let his sentence fade away, staring intently down at Harry.

"Actually," Harry said in a really quiet voice, "most of the things you said weren't done by me."

"Oh really? Then who else could it be?" Fred said, feigning bewilderment.

Harry's eyes flickered to the Portrait hole, where his best friends had just exited. "Hermione," he answered, even more quietly.

Fred's eyes widened, as did George's. "Oh my! I never knew!" Fred breathed, totally enjoying how red Harry's face was, and that he was currently squirming uncomfortably.

_Yes,_ Fred decided, _I should become an Interrogator. I think I'm pretty damn good at it!_

"I'm sorry," Fred said, not sounding sorry at all, "I'm getting off track here. But tell me Harry, is it just me, or does Ron always forget about doing his prefect duties?"

Harry wisely did not answer, instead focusing his attention at a seemingly interesting log burning in the fire.

George's brother radar told him that his sister had just entered the Room. He snuck a look and found her plastered to Dean Thomas, kissing him senseless. He caught the sullen look that Harry shot them as Ginny broke the embrace and giggled loudly at something Dean said.

He caught Fred's eye and they both grinned.

"Hey Ginny!" George yelled, "I'm sure you missed it, but you've got a bloke stuck on your face!"

Her expression immediately turned murderous. "Mind your own business, George!" She shouted back, "oh, hi Harry," she smiled as she caught sight of him.

"Uh, hi," Harry managed to say.

Ginny turned back to Dean, planted one last kiss on his cheeks and flaunted up the staircase. All the time Harry's eyes followed her movements.

"Well, that was very educational," Fred informed his twin, who nodded in agreement.

* * *

Fred's wand buzzed at precisely four thirty in the morning. He poured his usual glass of water and made a small detour to George's bed.

"Is it time?" his twin whispered, yawning. "I'm up."

He followed Fred down into the common room, where Fred showed him the armchair in which he had hidden Hermione's wand and Diary.

"Wait until you read it!" Fred whispered excitedly. "Seriously, you'll start to question everybody around you."

"Stop with the talk," George said impatiently, "and start with the reading."

"Hang on, just wait for a moment," Fred stuck his hand down the back of the armchair, feeling around for that familiar leather-bounded book.

"It's here somewhere…" he frowned as he found only her wand. "Maybe it's the wrong armchair." He tossed the wand onto a nearby table.

He spent the next ten minutes feeling up every single armchair in the room, but coming up with nothing. "Oh crap," he breathed, "it's gone."

George's eyes widened in horror, "you think Hermione took it?"

Fred shook his head, "no way, because she would've taken her wand too. Speaking of which, we need to sneak into the girls' dormitories."

"Okay," George agreed immediately, relieved that Fred was probably not gay, but bisexual instead. It was a start, George told himself, one step at a time.

"She has my wand in there- I can't do a thing without it!"

"Oh, so _that_ was why you told McGonagall you loved her theory lesson today. I was wondering about that."

Fred snorted, "And you weren't wondering about why I stole Flitwick's wand when he wasn't looking?"

"Well, that's normal. We do that every other lesson."

Fred thought about that and nodded, "That's true."

"I really wonder how you two manage to pass your exams," said a third voice. Both of them froze, staring at one another.

The figure came out of the shadows and stood in front of the fireplace. George let out a sigh of relief, "oh hi Hermione, why are you up so early?"

Hermione glared at Fred, "Supervising," she said vehemently.

Fred gave a small nervous laugh, "Ah, hi Hermione," he smiled weakly. She didn't return the gesture; instead, she chose to sit down in her usual seat.

"Well? Aren't you going to read the book?" She asked.

Fred and George exchanged a Look. "Not today," Fred said hastily.

"Why?"

"Er-because we're not up to it," Fred looked at George, who nodded.

"Yes, I see that you've brought George into this. You _do_ like to share your revolting sense of joy in humiliating others, do you not?"

"Well," Fred said slowly, "that is true-"

"-seeing as you're not about to read in my presence, I see no reason why I should be wasting any more time hanging around you two. Good night." She stood up, gave them her best patronising look before retreating back up the staircase.

Silence stretched out between the two twins as they watched her move away.

"Oh crap," Fred swore.

"I agree," George sighed.

* * *

"You!"

Somebody grabbed Fred by the collar and hauled him against the wall. He blinked, looking down at the short, brown-haired witch who was glaring daggers at him.

"H-Hermione?" He stammered. "What-?"

"You-you foul-despicable- arrogant- contemptuous- _prick_!" She yelled, whisking her wand out and jabbing it under his chin.

Fred, being at least a foot taller than her, easily removed her grasp on him. "How did you manage to find your wand?" he asked, ignoring her insults.

"It was lying on the table in the common room," Hermione replied scathingly, " for which I really must thank you, because then I get to hex _every drop of blood_ out of you!"

"Can you please explain what all this is about?" He asked, bewildered. "At least explain over breakfast. I'm starving."

Hermione, surprisingly strong for a girl of her height, poked her wand further into his skin. "_No,_" she hissed, "I have had enough of your _stupidity_ and your _pranks_ and your shameless urge to humiliate others and-and-" she was so angry that she couldn't spit out the words she was trying to say.

"-my devilish good looks?" Fred supplied helpfully.

"Shut up! Follow me. _Now!_" She snapped when he didn't move.

Hermione led him up to the Owlery, where it was deserted and smelled awful. She pushed aside a tapestry and revealed the very same niche which Fred had hid in when he first opened up her diary. He was stunned; he thought only George and him knew about this. Apparently he was wrong.

"Inside!" She pushed him, very unladylike, into the hiding place.

"Now…" she replaced the tapestry and turned to face him. A shower of sparks glittered from the tip of her wand threateningly. "I am going to make you pay."

"Wait!" he eyed the wand warily, "at least let me know the reason before you kill me!"

"_R-reason_?" She spluttered, "Apart from being the foulest wizard to ever walk on Earth? Apart from enjoying in invading other people's privacy? Apart from you taking pleasure in parading around other people's secrets? What other reasons can I say? Are those not enough to convict you?"

"Whoa," Fred flattened himself against the wall, "back up there. Did you say parading your secrets?"

"Are you deaf now too?" Hermione finally removed her wand and instead crossed her arms over her chest.

"Are you implying that_ I_ told everybody about your diary?" Fred frowned down at her. "Because the only other person I've told was George, and might I add that I didn't tell him any details either."

"Don't lie," Hermione said angrily. Her face was scrunched up in an I'm-totally-pissed look that Fred thought was actually quite cute, rather than its intended effect of frightening.

He pushed her away so that he could lift up the corner of the tapestry. "I'm not lying," he said, "I may enjoy pulling pranks, reading other people's diaries, I even like turning people into canaries, but I assure you," he paused, staring right into her eyes, "I will _never ever_ break a promise. Although I never said it out loud last night, but I promised myself afterwards that would not tell anyone about it. And I kept it."

"You told George," Hermione accused, but she was no longer glaring at him. Instead, she looked slightly resigned and dejected.

"Yes, well, George is practically me, isn't he?" He gave her a grin, before stepping out of the niche and holding the tapestry back so Hermione could follow him. "Now tell me, Hermione, where is your diary right now?"

She shrugged. "I only saw the entry about Ginny- i-it was…" she bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears, "the, um, analysis was copied onto a piece of parchment and someone enlarged it so that everybody in the Great Hall could read it."

"Uh huh… and you have no idea who might have done that?" He asked, leaning against an owl cage.

"Yes, but he just denied everything."

"Okay, let me rephrase my question: do you have any other suspects apart from me?"

"Well, I thought _you_ had the diary, so naturally I came to the conclusion that the only person who could've done it was you. Or George," she added thoughtfully. Then she shook her head, "no, if you didn't do it, then I don't think George did either."

"Er, I did have the diary, but I…misplaced it," Fred said sheepishly. "That's why we didn't read it early this morning, because we couldn't find it."

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously, "Please don't tell me, Fred Weasley, that you left that book in the common room."

He let out a huge breath, "um… maybe?"

She shoved him aside, "You are unbelievable!" She said indignantly, "I thought that you, at least, had more sense than to leave something so important lying around in public! Were you really so naïve to think that nobody would come across it?"

"Hey!" Fred said, his patience wearing thin, "At least_ I_ wasn't the one who wrote nasty comments about her friends!"

"That book was written as a way of venting out my feelings!" she yelled, "I never intended it to be read by people other than myself! How was _I _supposed to know that someone would come along and use it for their own sick purposes?"

"And you're calling _me_ naïve?" Fred answered coldly. "Did you seriously believe that people wouldn't found out about sooner or later, the way you hide so furtively behind your books every time? You should be glad that I was the one who found your book, and not other people!"

"Glad?" Hermione's voice had dropped to a deathly whisper, "glad that you took it? Why should I be? Nothing good has come out of it, has it? All I wanted to do this morning was to eat breakfast, but instead I get humiliated beyond imagination! If you hadn't taken it, none of this would've happened! I wouldn't even be willingly speaking to you right now!"

"So why change everything?" Fred said coolly, storming out the Owlery, "You obviously despise the very essence of my being, so why force yourself into my presence?" He slammed the door behind him, leaving behind a very furious and stunned Hermione.

* * *

Fred's bad mood continued throughout the entire day. Even George avoided him because it seemed that every little thing would send his twin balling up a fist. Fred was never the violent type, preferring to sneakily pull a prank on a person he hated, but today he seemed capable of murdering people by means of physical violence.

Because of Hermione, he'd missed out on breakfast. When lunch came about, he avoided the Great Hall because he knew she was there, but when it was time for dinner, he could no longer put off eating any further.

For the first time ever since entering Hogwarts, never had Fred Weasley entered a Great Hall in which not a person spoke. Everybody's attention was fixated upon something on the ceiling, and nobody touched the steaming food lying in front of them.

Fred slipped into the seat between George and Lee and followed their actions. He slowly looked up, saw what it was that had captured and enthralled its audience and wished that he hadn't.

* * *

**_Patient Number three: Ginerva Weasley_**

_Problems:_

_It saddens me greatly when I see a person with great potential turn themselves into something so artificial and weak. Though of course I never considered Ginny as a girl with wonderful prospects, it still disgusts me when I see that some girls are willing to do anything to achieve their worthless goals. The mediocrity of it all makes me want to stuff her, and everybody else like her, into a television set, where they truly belong._

_My first impression of her was that she was a weak, under-confident, useless girl that would never rise to the occasion when one demanded her to be. But further association with her proved that I was wrong. Ginny would soon achieve unbelievable greatness – her goal was, no doubt, to charm her way into the hearts of every existing male in the school. Congratulations are in hand for she is well on her way in accomplishing such an appalling achievement. When her own schoolgirl crush rejected her advances, of which consisted of standing afar and blushing, she changed her tactics and instead aimed for jealousy. Might I remind you of how juvenile that is? _

_Ginny goes through boyfriends more than she does through books. I must remedy that, for that girl is inevitably going to end up with no proper job along with a terrible reputation. But then, must I really waste my own precious time in trying to counsel her? Surely I have better things to do- especially when she takes no heed of my warnings, and instead insists on doing the absolute opposite of what I suggested._

_Recommended Courses of Actions:_

_-Force her to spend company with Professor Snape, who repels rather than attracts the attention of the opposite gender. _

_-Lock her in the library, or more specifically, lock her in the self-help section. _

It was most definitely the worst entry Fred had read. While the other two were honest, albeit harsh, this one about his little sister was just downright vindictive. It was very short, far shorter than the other two, but Hermione had made her opinions frightening clear.

Fred pushed away from the table and abruptly stood up, without a word to anybody else, he stormed out the Great Hall, his appetite lost.

He had always known, from the very first entry, that Hermione Granger was a harsh and cruel cynic. But even though he had laughed out loud after reading Harry's and Ron's analysis, Ginny's one left him cold and shaking with anger he didn't know he could ever possess. Whatever sympathy he had for the witch was long gone now; he allowed himself a small gruff chuckle at his own stupidity and idiocy.

He had sympathised her, felt sorry for her even, because he knew what it felt to feel lonely among those you love. George and him had given up a long time ago trying to earn their mother's praise, though Fred still inevitably felt disappointed when his mother showered his elder brothers with endless compliments while she gave him stern lectures one after the other and exasperated looks. But he'd turn his own sour feelings into something more tolerable, which was taking pleasure in the fact that he possessed the rare ability to humiliate others without having to face their fury, because he always managed to humour his victim in the process.

He turned the corner and stopped, because the object of his thoughts, the impetus of his wrath, was huddled up against the wall, sobbing her eyes out shamelessly.

"Why are _you _crying?" Fred said, "Because I'm quite sure that it was Ginny's name, and not yours, that was so hideously displayed in public."

"Fred-"

"Oh sod off!" he snapped. "It's _Ginny_ that deserves comfort, not you! Nowhere did I see your name written on the ceiling did I? I'm seriously regretting that I didn't expose you as the person you truly are, because now you've dragged Ginny into this whole mess! Why couldn't you have just kept your own sour, unpleasant opinions to yourself?"

And without allowing her to defend herself, Fred turned his heel and left.

* * *

He hated her; she was arrogant, spiteful, malicious, and manipulative. Her writings left him shaking with laughter, wordless in amazement, and sent his blood boiling.

And yet, _yet _he couldn't bring himself to tell everybody that it was her who wrote all those despicable lies about his sister. He had the power to turn the tables onto her, to humiliate her, to avenge his sister, but he found himself unable to do so.

And so he hated her for this above all her other loathsome traits, he hated her because without meaning to, she had, through her writings that reflected her true, raw personality, crept into his heart and claimed it as her own.

* * *

**Again, thanks to everybody who reviewed! I was unable to reply to your reviews this time because I simply did not have enough time. Please forgive me.**

**I made this chapter longer than the previous two because Uni is starting next week, which means I won't have time to update. But when I have some spare time lying around, I promise I will continue this story. It's times like this I wish the holidays were longer, but, alas, one can only hope.**

**Anyway, as you can see, this story is slowly turning away from being plain humourous (if it ever was humourous, that is) and into dramatic romance.**

**Lastly, I would like to say that as English is not my first language, there will inevitably be some grammatical mistakes and improper use of vocabulary in the story. I would be extremely grateful if you could tell me where I was wrong, and not let my poor language skills be a hindrance to your enjoyment of reading this fic. **

**On that cheery note, please continue to read and review!**


	4. Patient no 4: Parviti Patil

**Chapter four**

* * *

_"And so he hated her for this above all her other loathsome traits, he hated her because without meaning to, she had, through her writings that reflected her true, raw personality, crept into his heart and claimed it as her own-"_

-like a bully might claim a person as his victim.

Fred was, quite frankly, disappointed with himself. He was supposed to be fearless, courageous, bold and all the other synonyms for the word 'brave'- and yet, _yet_ he found himself scared of _Hermione Granger_! The bookworm! The girl who'd rather secretly write comments about people instead of confronting them!

This was sad.

Fred stormed up the staircases and arrived, glaring at everybody and nobody, outside the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Password?" She asked, trying, but failing to hide her curiosity. It wasn't every day one saw Fred Weasley losing his temper after all. She wasn't aware Fred _could _get pissed off- he always seemed so cheerful, devious, and, perhaps, slightly annoyed when a person (normally Percy) ticked him off, but never _ever_ was he _I-could-cook-an-egg-on-his-face_ angry. That boy was positively _steaming._

"Hera," he said shortly.

The Fat Lady waited, but to her frustration, he did not spill his heart out, but rather glowered at her when she didn't move.

"Oh, okay then," she said grumpily, before swinging open. "Be like that. We portraits are always the last to know what's happened-it's so unfair! Do you think it's _fun_ to come up with passwords _all day_? The least you could do is provide us with some gossip- or entertain us with your sad life stories, but no… you just give me the password and ignore me! Well, I'm putting forward a complaint! We portraits have a right too-"

Fred didn't bother listening to her rant, but rather slammed the portrait loudly in response. "Blimey, you can't get _any_ privacy in this school can you?" he muttered angrily.

_Ah, the irony and hypocrisy of it all. Since when did Fred care about respecting the need for privacy? _

He wisely chose to ignore that little comment in his head.

Fred slumped into the arm chair that, over the course of these days, became 'his'. His anger had dissipated a bit when he had tracked down Ginny, and found that she was finding the whole thing highly amusing rather than wanting to bawl her eyes out.

"Whoever wrote that is clearly lacking in the brain department," she had told him, "because they write about absolute rubbish! I read books, more than the average person may I add (because of Hermione), and I don't recall somebody _ever _trying to tell me not to date people- the writer must simply be jealous because_ I_ have no trouble finding boys who fancy me. They, no doubt, don't have my special ability," she finished with a small Weasley grin. Then she had hooked her arm around Dean's waist and walked off.

So the knowledge that Ginny was all right was relieving at least, but Fred was still pretty annoyed about this little epiphany- the realisation that he feared Hermione.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly _why _he was so afraid of humiliating and exposing her as her true self, after all he hadn't had any qualms about the whole Snape/McGonagall incident. He also couldn't understand why he avoided her sometimes, and yet didn't mind her company at other times. And he certainly didn't get why he was so angry at her calling him stupid (in a nutshell, anyway). He was never this mad at somebody for pointing out his intelligence, or lack of it, because he would just get them back by cursing their skin into cornflakes and then having a good laugh about it.

Hermione Granger had a very unnerving knack of making him experience so many emotions. He could swear that he'd been through the entire spectrum of feelings that ever existed. Perhaps that was why he was so afraid of her (he'd officially answered the above WHY questions by the all-round answer: he was scared of her-there, end of story, no more needing to_ think_ about that topic at last) because she brought out things in him he'd rather bury.

Fred got up and poured himself a glass of water, and decided that since he was on a roll today for thinking about questions, he might as well think some more.

Something wasn't right about the article in the Great Hall. He didn't know what, exactly, but after he'd calmed down to think it through carefully, there were definitely some odd points.

Fred returned to his armchair, ready for another five-minute brain exercise. He thought about the analysis's that he'd read by Hermione so far.

He found out that she secretly despised Harry, or rather, Harry's incapability of doing things right and his total dependence on her, even though it was obvious Harry considered Ron as his best friend. She hated that Harry took all the credit for what she did, and she hated that he was always chasing after Cho.

That much, was understandable. Fred disliked it when people thought somebody else pulled a prank instead of him. It was downright infuriating when the person who did _nothing_ was treated with disgusted looks that masked a secret amusement that, by rights, should be directed to _him_, while he could do nothing but think up new ways to humiliate people. He could also understand Hermione's frustration about Harry's juvenile infatuation with a girl totally out of his league, and his constant displays of stupidity whenever Cho came within thirty feet as well.

It was the same thing with Ron's analysis- Fred could get where Hermione was coming from, after all, he himself always made sure to remind Ron about his lack of vocabulary and his many other faults. Like the analysis of Harry, Ron's one was amusing, if not highly entertaining.

So Hermione Granger enjoyed writing stuff like that about her friends. The tone she adopted was cynical, but at the same time humorous and light- with just a touch of jealousy and resentment.

But then we come to Ginny's one- the article that was so publicly displayed. It had lost the humorous undertone, and the 'issues' that Hermione chose to address were not at all 'light'. In Harry's and Ron's one, she had commented on their stupidity and compared them to herself, as if to assure herself that she _was _better than them, but the analysis of Ginny's was completely different- Hermione had written about Ginny's reputation, and had thrown in a lot of personal insults and inaccuracies. Fred had, distinctly remembered that _Hermione_ was the one that told Ginny to 'move on and forget about Harry', so why would she write about talking Ginny out of dating other guys?

It just didn't make sense.

There was, also, the weird and creepy thing about Hermione always turning up early in the morning in the common room, just as when he was reading the book. He knew she studied hard, but Hermione was also one who expressed her strong opinions about following the whole eight-hour-sleep, three meals a day, eight glasses of water daily regime so vocally.

So why was she waking up so early? Just to, as she had neatly put it, "supervise" him, when in doing so, it might jeopardise her ability to focus later that day during lessons which inevitably would lead to lower marks? And, both times Fred had sensed that she'd known where he'd kept her wand and book, and yet she retrieved only her wand when he had carelessly placed it on the table. If Hermione was really ashamed and embarrassed about her little diary, why didn't she just take them away? Why did she only take her wand when she wanted to hex him when she had, no doubt, needed her wand in class?

And why was this strong, independent, fierce girl reduced to tears when Malfoy teased her? It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, and it wasn't like they weren't used to such insults, so why? Why, why, _why?_

Something was very, very wrong.

Fred leaned back and stared out the window, watching as a school owl flew out of the Owlery. He ignored the people that had come back from dinner and the furtive whispers when people noticed the trademark red-hair and freckles.

So lost he was in thought, that he didn't realise that Ron and Harry and joined him before the fireplace.

Both boys were, understandably, peeved off about the article in the Hall, and had split their attention between insulting the person who wrote it ("he's a bloody git, all right," Ron yelled), trying to figure out who wrote was behind it ("I bet it's Malfoy," Harry said darkly, "trust the little ferret to do something so hideous like this) and wondering where Hermione and Ginny were ("Funny," Harry commented, "haven't seen the two of them since this they ran out from breakfast"). At last they seemed to realise that the third armchair was occupied in their fifth insult in, and fell silent as they watched Fred concentrating on something.

"You reckon he's all right?" Ron muttered quietly to Harry.

"Probably trying to figure who did it," Harry murmured back. "Y'know, so he can hex them into oblivion."

"I like that idea," Ron beamed, a smile breaking through at last. "Oi, Fred! You have any idea who wrote the bloody thing?"

Fred snapped back to reality, ashamed that he'd been caught thinking seriously- it was things like that that could ruin one's reputation. "No," Fred lied, "no idea."

"Oh," Ron said, disappointed, "we think it's Malfoy."

"It's possible," Fred agreed.

Just then, the portrait swung open and revealed George and Lee, who were both angry and amused at the same time.

"You okay, Fred?" George asked, stretching himself in front of the cackling fire. "You were pretty pissed off."

"And you weren't?" Fred raised an eyebrow, "Ginny_ is_ our littlest sister, you know."

George's expression darkened, "I know," he said, "wait till I get my hands on that little freak… But oh! But did you see? It was so bloody hilarious!"

"See what?" Harry asked.

"Ginny!" Lee chimed in. "Seriously man, you should be proud of her!"

"Cut to the chase, won't you?" Ron snapped impatiently, "What did Ginny do?"

"She and Hermione were outside the Great Hall, and then when everybody was coming out, Ginny charged to Malfoy, tackled him straight, then cast the best Bat-Bogey Curse anyone has ever seen! Then Hermione stunned Goyle and Crabbe- you know, the two gorillas- to stop them from pulling Ginny off! Both of them are in McGonagall's office, but I think they're going to get off, because she was pretty pissed off about the article as well."

"Hermione joined in?" Fred asked incredulously, "are you serious?"

"Yep!" George said gleefully, "best stun ever! She whipped out her wand, was like "Stupefy!" and a second later, both of them were out cold, tongues lolling about- didn't know she had it in her!"

"Well, I had a good teacher," Hermione said from behind them. She was grinning- the happiest Fred had seen her in days- and beside her, laughing her head off, was Ginny and Dean trailing behind them.

"Hermione!" Ron gasped, shaking his head at her, "Ginny! Well done!"

"Malfoy's in the Hospital Wing," Dean told them, "it's a shame McGonagall told me to pull Ginny away from him."

"Why'd you do it, Hermione?" Fred asked her, trying to force a smile on his face.

Hermione looked extremely uncomfortable, "Ginny and I, er, agreed that Malfoy seemed to be the one who wrote it."

"Oh really?" Fred raised an eyebrow, "and how did you come to that conclusion?"

Hermione's cheeks were very pink now, "intuition," she replied, before hastily bidding them a good night and escaping upstairs.

Ginny and Dean sat down beside Lee and George. "I wasn't actually expecting Hermione to join in," Ginny confided in them, "but then she read the thing on the ceiling and she just snapped."

Harry looked bewilderingly at Ron, who looked equally confused, "but… I thought she already read the thing this morning?"

Ginny shrugged, "I'm guessing she didn't read the entire thing, then. Anyway, McGonagall told Dean to take the three down to the Hospital wing-"

"-which was difficult because the gorillas were so damn heavy-" Dean muttered.

"-and made Hermione and I go to her office. Then, this is the crazy part: she told us to sit down in front of the fire, gave us some biscuits and congratulated us on a job well done! McGonagall of all people! Approving that we _broke the rules_!"

"I'm beginning to like her, the old bat," Ron cheered.

"She told us that she has to dock house points, or else Umbridge is going to start poking her nose into the business, and so she took twenty points from Gryffindor, told us we have 'detention' with Professor Flitwick tomorrow night, and sent us away when somebody knocked on the door and informed her that Umbridge was coming."

"Wait, she managed to get you out before Umbridge came?" Lee unwrapped a chocolate frog that Ron had given him and stuck it in his mouth, "Amashing."

"Yeah," Ginny said, obviously liking the attention they were giving her, "and Flitwick said not to worry about tomorrow, because all he wants us to do is help out the house-elves, and everybody knows that helping them means-"

"-extra food!" Ron whooped, "I am _so_ there tomorrow!"

"Oh," Harry said quietly, "that reminds me, anybody got a spare galleon?"

"Wha-? Oh," George said. "Dunno, have to check."

"You better," Harry managed a smile, "ask the others for me, okay? I need all the galleons I can get."

"Roger that," Fred saluted him. Then he added, "I have a galleon."

"And me," Ron said. He leaned closer to Harry with a smirk on his face, "but you'll be asking Cho, right Harry?"

Harry gave Ginny a sneak glance that didn't go unnoticed by Fred, "Oh…right," Harry replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Yeah, I think I will."

Ron snickered.

Nobody but Fred saw the way Harry glared at Dean when Ginny kissed him goodnight.

_Interesting_, Fred thought with a bit of a grin.

* * *

Fred's wand buzzed at precisely four thirty in the morning.

He got up, poured himself a glass of water, and tip-toed down to the common room.

He was on a mission this morning. He wanted to know where and why Hermione was up so early. Fred pocketed his wand (actually, it was Professor Flitwick's wand, but he considered other people's property his) and waited, hiding in the shadows for her to come down from the dormitories.

He spend his time figuring out how to break into the girls' dormitories so he could get his own wand back, and when he came up with nothing plausible, settled down and stared at the staircase instead.

"Fred?"

He accidentally sloshed the water over his robes. Again.

"Hermione!" he breathed, quickly drying himself off. "How'd you-? I was watching- I mean, good morning!"

"You're not mad are you?" She whispered, biting her lip. "About Ginny, I mean."

"I was," Fred corrected her. "But then I met her after I saw you, and she thought the whole thing was a joke. You're lucky Ginny is so open minded," he told Hermione sternly, "or else you would find that you'll have a big potato for a nose for the rest of your life."

Hermione sighed and sat down in her chair. "I wanted to tell you something, Fred," she said desperately, "I wasn't the one who wrote all that about Ginny, I swear! I wouldn't write something so… so vindictive! Ginny's the only girl friend I have!"

Fred sat down beside her. "Then why were you so annoyed yesterday morning? I seem to remember that you thought you wrote it."

"I didn't read the entire thing!" Hermione moaned, burying her face into her palms, "I thought it was what I had written, but after dinner, I realised it wasn't! Somebody is using my diary and twisting my words!"

"Sure…whatever," Fred said. He did believe her, but he rather enjoyed seeing Hermione berate herself. It made up for the way she made him experience the whole Spectrum of Feelings. Revenge was best served cold, right?

"I'm telling the truth!" Hermione whispered, "Please believe me! All I wrote about Ginny was that she was such a drama queen, and that Harry didn't deserve such a kind person like her! I just said that Ginny should become an actress! That's it!"

"So basically, you wrote that you wanted to '_stuff her, and everybody else like her, into a television set where they belong'?"_ Fred said.

Hermione was nearly in tears now, "Yes I wrote that!" she said, "but not-not in that context! Not with that _tone_!"

"Prove it."

"I can't! Somebody has my diary- the real one!"

"So why are you up so early? Trying to figure out who took it?" Fred asked, hoping to catch her unawares.

Sadly, Hermione wasn't the brightest witch for nothing. "I couldn't sleep," she fibbed, "so I came down here hoping I'd find you- to clarify everything."

"Of course," Fred nodded, "that's what you were doing for the past couple of mornings too."

Hermione's cheeks were pink again, except that he couldn't see them because of the darkness, "I was supervising you," she said rather quietly.

"Of course," he repeated, "I believe you," he added in such a way that he obviously did not.

"Fred-"

"-until you tell me the truth, Hermione, I have every right to believe that _you_ were the one who insulted my sister."

And with that happy comment, Fred brushed past her and headed upstairs.

* * *

Later that morning, at a more reasonable hour, George received a reply from Bill.

_"George-_

_Are you okay? What's wrong with Fred? And no, I'm not gay. As to your questioning about my courage: Fleur constantly reminds me of how brave I am. So there._

_-Bill._

_P.S.: Send another owl apart from Pig, would you? He's so annoying._

_P.P.S.: Have you never considered that Fred might be in love?"_

George dropped the letter as if it was a dungbomb. Then he picked it up, reread the letter, and started laughing. Fred? In love? _As if. _

And he'd thought Bill will give good advice.

The day continued to be great for George: Fred was back to normal, pulling pranks left right and centre, plus they managed to perfect the Boils Brunch Bar and tested it against Malfoy, who had to go to the Hospital Wing for the second time that week.

Yes, George was convinced that Fred had just faced a quarter-life crisis and had gotten over it quickly. That was the only possible explanation for his mood swings- even if Fred had insisted that it was because of a prank he'd (regretted) pulling on Hermione.

Well, the absence of the diary meant that Hermione had gotten it back, and now Fred was waiting for the punishment to be dished out. But Fred, like George, always used their time wisely, so instead of waiting idly about, he had used the waiting time to pull more pranks.

Besides, from the little 'incident' that Hermione had yesterday night, George reckoned that Hermione was in no right to accuse Fred of being juvenile.

George burnt the letter in the fireplace just before going to dinner and fished out, furtively, his little galleon that Harry had reminded him about. It was warm in his hand, and its smooth gold surface was disrupted by the jagged lines that spelt out "Tonight, seven pm, R.O.R"

He couldn't wait for another Dumbledore's Army meeting. Apart from all the Fred drama he'd been worrying out, he'd also had to endure hour-long tortures with that Umbridge freak, and stunning somebody else with permission was just the right release he needed right now.

* * *

Unfortunately Harry had decided that everybody had perfected the Stunning spell, and was moving on to the Shielding charm.

"_Protego_!" Harry demonstrated, throwing up a shield around him so that Lavender's disarming spell rebounded.

"So, that's how it's done," Harry said modestly, pocketing his wand. "Er, why don't you guys pair up, with one person doing a disarming spell or whatever and the other trying to deflect it?"

As usual, Fred paired up with George. Hermione and Ginny were getting free food-er, _detention-_Michael Corner, Cho Chang, Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood, Marietta Edgecomb and Padma Patil- namely, the Ravenclaws, were busy and could not come to the meeting, though Fred had a feeling their absence had to do with the upcoming Ravenclaw versus Slytherin quidditch game rather than the 'we need to study' excuse all of them used.

Half an hour in, they switched partners, so Fred was with Parviti, and George with Lavender.

"So, Fred," Parviti said conversationally as she sent him a stunner, "What did you think about the article?"

Fred cast up a shield charm and watched as the spell hit Harry's head. "You mean the one about Ginny?"

"Yeah, do you know who wrote it?"

"No," this time Fred was honest; Hermione's denial made sense for the different style and tone of the analysis's, though he still wasn't going to just give in and forgive her just yet.

"Well, we have an idea," the girl's eyes were positively sparkling. "That's why the Ravenclaws aren't here. Padma's my sister," she reminded Fred.

"Wow, you don't say! Did I mention George is my brother?" Fred said sarcastically. Both of them were twins.

Parviti rolled her eyes. "Well, we have an idea that it was _Malfoy_ who did the whole thing, so we want to get him back. After all, nobody humiliates a member of the D.A. and gets away with it."

"Damn right!" Dean Thomas slapped her a high-five. Both he and Seamus had stopped and were listening to her keenly,

"So, what's the plan? Couldn't they've just told us here?" Seamus asked.

"You know the upcoming quidditch match?" –_I am such an all-knowing genius_, Fred thought- "well, the whole of Ravenclaw is holding a meeting, to come up with ways to humiliate Malfoy in the game."

"I have a good idea!" Ron chimed in. It seemed like everybody had stopped practising. "Let's get Dobby to charm the Bludger again!"

"That's illegal," Angelina frowned. "I don't think sinking to Slytherin's level is going to make this satisfying."

"They were thinking along the lines of winning the match, you know, like five hundred to zero, but making it seem like it was all because of Malfoy," Parviti continued.

"Every match they lose is because of his pig-headedness," Susan muttered.

"Not that you're complaining," Katie reminded her.

"I'm not sure what they're going to come up with," Parviti said honestly, "but I just want you guys to be prepared for it. Apparently a lot of the Ravenclaw people on the quidditch team didn't want to be part of anything, because they felt that the Gryffindors should do the thrashing, but Cho won them though- saying something like, 'we have a chance to show everybody how great we are at quidditch, get revenge for Ginny, who is friends with most of you, _and _we get to humiliate Malfoy, so why aren't you all jumping to sign up for it?' Padma said she was very inspiring."

"I bet she is," Fred nudged George and glanced at Harry, whose mouth was hanging open.

"I-well, Cho's great, isn't she?" Harry said weakly.

"The plan better be good," Neville said, "because I'll be there with Colin's camera. I'm not gonna miss the expression on Malfoy's face for anything in the world!"

"Shouldn't we have a say too?" George asked. "Considering Ginny is our sister and she's a Gryffindor and all."

Parviti shrugged, "just passing on the message. Talk to the Ravenclaws."

As if on cue, the door opened and Cho walked in, followed by Marietta.

"The rest are coming," Cho told Harry, who started blushing horribly, "we thought it would be a good idea if we came separately over a period of time."

"So?" Lavender asked, "how'd the meeting go? What'd you come up with?"

"Can't say, sorry," Cho said breezily, "because that would be revealing Ravenclaw's quidditch tactics to fellow rivals, no offence," she added.

"None taken!" Harry blurt out. Fred and George shared an amused look.

"Just wait until the match," Cho said wisely, "oh, but Lee-I was told to give you this." She gave him a scroll of parchment. "It's blank now, but I've charmed it so it will reveal its contents an hour before the match."

"Uh…okay," Lee tucked the parchment away.

"Right," Marietta said, obviously bored. "What are we doing today?"

* * *

The match was due in two weeks, and it seemed that the Slytherins knew that the Ravenclaws had cooked up a plan. Never were the tensions as thick as it had ever been. Harry had taken to appoint (reluctantly) Michael as Cho's personal bodyguard- because the Slytherin Keeper had tried to transfigure her arms into tree trunks.

Meanwhile, Fred, George and Lee were trying their best to undo the charm on that mysterious parchment. But nothing they tried worked- except that it was now green.

While the twins were itching to get back at Malfoy for his (everybody was now convinced the mysterious writer was him) stunt concerning Ginny, claiming they need to 'warm-up' for the game, they were told, rather sternly by Terry Boot, to not do anything to put Malfoy out of commission.

But even the Ravenclaw members of the D.A. were finding it hard to protect Malfoy from incoming hexes and pranks when they strolled into dinner exactly three days before the match.

For, hanging over the ceiling, concealing the stars and night sky, was, once again, an entry from Hermione's diary.

Fred slammed into Hermione as she stopped suddenly before him. She was frozen, her eyes unable to tear itself away from the ceiling. He righted himself, scowled at her (he was still angry about being afraid of her), and reluctantly leaned closer when she beckoned him to.

"Read it!" Hermione whispered to Fred, "It's completely twisted my words around! Again!" She was looking furious, and a bit embarrassed.

_"**Patient Number Four: Parviti Patil**_

_The way she thrusts herself in front of members of the opposite gender is highly amusing, if not extremely revolting. The very fact that she believes herself attractive is, itself, worthy of being a reason to send her to St. Mungo's- although there will be a problem as to which department she should go to: Facial Reconstruction or the Mental Ward. Both, I think. That promiscuous female is most likely going to end up in a brothel- if she is lucky enough to be accepted, that is._

_Saying that Parviti is ugly is a euphemism, because 'ugly' and 'hideous' are both words that seriously underestimate the true extent of how horrid her physical appearance is, of which consists of an unfortunate complexion-"_

The writer rambled on quite a bit, but the whole thing was basically describing how ugly Parviti was.

"Okay, you've convinced me," Fred muttered to Hermione, "that definitely does not sound like you."

"Nor," Hermione frowned back, "does it sound like the person who wrote Ginny's one."

"Are you implying that your diary is being passed around, being rewritten by a different person?"

"It's possible. It certainly explains why I couldn't find it on Malfoy."

Fred stared at her as they sat down at the table. "What do you mean, _you couldn't find it on Malfoy_?  
Good Merlin, did she _feel _him up or something?

He tried to ignore the sharp sour tang inside of him at that thought.

"Remember how Ginny tackled Malfoy? It was actually because I confessed to her about the diary, but I told her that I didn't write about those things about her- so she took the opportunity to try and find it on him. I figured that Malfoy probably had enough sense to carry it around with him at all times, or hid it in a really secret place-"

"-you can stop insulting me," Fred bit out, "people would think you're complimenting the git."

Hermione gave him her best patronising look, but didn't elaborate on it. "I was beginning to think Malfoy wasn't the one who took it and read it. But… he certainly does seem like the type to flaunt things doesn't he?"

"I'd say," Fred agreed. He had lost interest once she explained that she didn't touch Malfoy, instead he helped himself to some potatoes.

Hermione prodded him, "Apart from Ginny, you're the only one who I can talk to this about, so can you at least_ listen_?"

"What, just so everybody else can hear too? We're at the bloody Great Hall, Hermione. In public." He added for emphasis.

"Oh. Right," she thankfully took the hint and shut up about the subject. But it was obvious she was burning to tell him about her theories.

"Fine," Fred huffed out, "four-thirty. Usual place."

"Okay," Hermione beamed, "but no glasses of water this time."

Fred glared at her.

* * *

Parviti had hid herself in the girls' bathroom and was bawling her eyes out. Even Lavender, her best friend, was not allowed to linger outside the cubicle.

Hermione came out from the bathroom, dripping with sink water from head to toe. "It's useless," she said, shaking her head, "she won't listen."

Lavender gritted her teeth, "oh, if only Malfoy was crucial to the whole plan… I would _so_ hex him until the next century!"

"Which isn't very far away," Fred reminded her. "But we can wait until the match. The Ravenclaw plan was for Ginny, right? I say we plan a little something for him after the match, for Parviti. We can even get the Ravenclaws to help us, considering Padma's a Ravenclaw."

"We can?" Parviti's voice came from behind the locked door. They heard a click as she unlatched it. "What were you thinking of?"

"Oh," George smirked, "just that Fred and I have a lot of untested inventory…"

* * *

**So... now I've chucked in a mystery, how's that? Did you seriously think that Fred would fall in love with Hermione so quickly? I like to put my characters (fine, jk Rowling's characters) through a lot of crap... I'm sadistic like that. **

**Okay, even though I said I won't be updating as much because of Uni and everything, it's just that the lure of writing fanfiction is greater than actually preparing for classes.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please read and REVIEW!**

**I get a lot of alerts/favourites, but in comparison, little number of reviews... but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the reviews that people HAVE written! I'm eternally grateful for those who've reviewed each chapter faithfully and have given me much cause for joy (you know who you are :] )**


	5. Patient no 5: Cho Chang

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Draco neatly pinned his new shiny badge onto his quidditch robes, posing this way and that in front of his mirror, which was busy cooing and making applause noises at him.

"Excellent!" The mirror said approvingly, "the silver badge fits right into the silver-green custom made robes-"

"Oh, shut up," Draco yawned, tired of the endless flattering comments. He was the only member of the quidditch team to not dress in the changing rooms, but rather preferred the privacy of his own room.

Leaning against his trunk (decorated with intricate leather carvings, with his initials stamped in goblin silver) was his broom, the nimbus two thousand and one. It was not quite the best broom out there (damn you, Harry Potter!) but when his mother had, rather tentatively, suggested that he order a firebolt, he had blatantly refused.

"I'm not getting anything _Potter _thinks is good," he had replied scathingly, not realising Harry had said the exact same thing to that idiotic Wood two years before when his own Nimbus had been destroyed.

Draco checked himself one last time, making sure his new badge that marked him one rank above the Prefects (Hell, even above the Head Boy) caught the eye of everybody who looked at him, before grabbing the broom and racing up the stairs.

As he stopped to push open the doors that led into the Entrance Hall, he forced himself to calm down and rearranged his features so he looked calm and unconcerned (meaning, he adopted his usual smirk and moved by strutting about).

"Psst, Malfoy!"

Draco heard the doors bang shut behind him and looked around.

Nobody was in sight.

"Malfoy! Over here!"

The voice seemed to be coming from the suit of armour. Draco frowned. He wasn't so stupid as to lift the thing's visor up.

"Malfoy…..Draco!"

The Slytherin Seeker, who had his own fair share of hexes and jinxes directed at him this past week, wisely ignored the voice and strode out the front doors. No doubt some stupid Ravenclaw had cast some voice spell on the suit of armour to try and lure him into a trap.

He wasn't stupid. He had, after all, passed all his tests in all his subjects with an E or above.

But the voice followed him everywhere. That strange, whispery sound just kept speaking his name eerily from behind every statue, bush and tree.

_"Draco….Malfoy…."_

At last he couldn't contain it anymore, dropping his broom and whipping out his wand, he aimed it at the nearest bush and yelled out, "Stupefy!"

Silence.

"Hah!" He yelled triumphantly, "Not so vocal anymore, are you?"

He picked up his broom off the ground and hurried (with elegance, grace, and all things Malfoy) into the quidditch pitch, where the rest of his team were waiting with tapping feet.

"About time!" The captain growled. "And why didn't you polish your broom last night?"

Draco glanced down at the shiny, smooth handle and the carefully combed bristles of his broom. "I did," he said haughtily, "But I guess, with hygienic standards like yours, you wouldn't be able to tell squished mud apart from your face."

The captain cracked his knuckles threateningly, but could do nothing. After all, Malfoy was an arrogant prick, but he was the best damn seeker that the Slytherin team had ever had. Besides, he was Lucius' Malfoy's son, and Umbridge's favourite.

"It's Ravenclaw versus Slytherin!" The commentator- Lee Jordon- yelled out from his seat. "Tempers are running high and the gold is being pooled out. Whoever wins this game gets to play against the Gryffindors for the final match! Good luck to Ravenclaw! –ouch!- and alright Professor, good luck to Slytherin, I suppose."

The Silver and green clad students booed loudly.

"Anyway!" Lee shouted, drowning out the voices, "Professor McGonagall has reminded me that any fighting that occurs either during or after the match will have more than just house points and brooms taken away from them! Although, in my opinion, it really depends on the situation as to who is at fault, see, at the Gryffindor match, the slimy Malfoy git provoked the Gryffindors-"

"-JORDON!" Professor McGonagall tried to tug the microphone from his hands, "Enough!"

"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Anyway, Let the match begin! Everybody kick off from the ground!"

Draco was too busy kicking off from the to notice that Jordon was not even looking at the match, but rather staring at a sheet of green parchment.

Malfoy turned around, tailing the seeker Cho. That Ravenclaw had quick eyes and sharp reflexes but a shoddy broom. He, on the other hand, had a fantastic broom, quick reflexes, but was a tad slow to find the snitch.

"The score is ten-nil to Slytherin!" Lee's voice boomed out. "Bad luck, Ravenclaws. Oh, look at Chang diving!"

Sure enough, Draco saw the Asian girl streak down between two bludgers very quickly-"Has Chang seen the snitch?" Lee shouted out, with Malfoy close behind her.

It was only when he realised that he had flown around the full length of the pitch that he found out she was just goading him.

"You're not going to trick me next time!" he shouted out angrily to her, who returned a small smirk.

The Ravenclaw audience were burying their heads into their arms- the score was now sixty-nil to Slytherin.

Malfoy gave up tailing Chang and instead scanned around for that small fluttering golden snitch that would make him hero.

"IS THAT THE SNITCH?" Jordon cried out, pointing towards the hoops. "Look! The snitch is near the hoops!"

Malfoy looked at where the commentator was pointing, and saw it- the small winged ball was darting around the middle hoop.

"C'mon!" he urged his broom. He tucked in his legs and shot towards the hoop, successfully knocking out the quaffle from one of the Ravenclaw Chasers on the way. The chaser dropped the red ball, which a Slytherin chaser caught, who flashed him a triumphant smile.

Draco streaked towards the middle hoop, dodging several bludgers along the way which were making weird shrieking noises, and leaned forward, his arms stretched out-

"-The seeker has caught the snitch!" Lee's voice rang out.

Draco paused, his arm stopping in midair. _What? The snitch was clearly in front of him!_

He wheeled around just in time to see the Captain flying alarmingly quickly towards him, who was wielding a thick cylindrical shape that looked suspiciously like a Beater's bat.

"YOU… IDIOTIC!" the Captain screeched. "DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT WE WERE SAYING?"

Draco blinked, "you didn't say anything," he said coolly, "I would have heard your annoying high-pitched squeak even from thirty feet below ground."

THWACK!

Everything went black

* * *

That night, the DA members sneaked into the Room of Requirement, which had been transformed, by Dobby, into a very Harry room.

Fred helped Harry tear down blinking faces of the younger boy, who was shouting out, "GO RAVENCLAW, HAVE A HARRY DAY!"

"Not a very flattering photo, right Harry?" Fred studied a gigantic poster of Harry sneezing.

"I told Dobby not to decorate," Harry blushed, "But I guess he wanted to do it."

"That elf does have an eye for interior design though," Fred stepped back and surveyed the decorations, "though I question his decision about the theme."

The room was smaller today, as it was not an official meeting or practise, but rather a celebration. Dobby had draped the entire room with blue and silver cloth, which had been bewitched to flutter in a non-existent breeze. The cloths were like television screens- replaying that amazing moment when Cho had caught the snitch with Malfoy looking like a fool at the other side of the pitch, blinking foolishly.

Rather than cushions, the floor was littered with sofas, beanbags and mini tables which boasted of butterbeer, chocolate frogs, popcorn, and a single bottle of firewhisky arranged artistically on its wooden surface.

The door swung open, and the rest of the Gryffindors strode in.

"Wow Harry," Hermione eyed the decorations, "Dobby really did a great job. "

"Oh look! Firewhisky!" Ron bounded for the bottle, which was whisked out of his hand by a disapproving Hermione.

"You are under age!" She scowled at him, "and you're a _prefect!"_

"Who cares? Give it back to me," Ron moaned, "I've wanted a sip of that every since…. Well, forever."

"It's alcohol, Ron," Hermione said sternly, "it's bad for your kidney."

Fred grabbed the bottle out of her hands, "Cheers Hermione," he beamed at her, "thanks for saving it for me!"

"Fred!" Hermione put her hands on her hips, "You're-" she tried to think of an excuse.

"Underage? Nope, not me," Fred uncorked the bottle, giving the cork to Ron, who sniffed it eagerly, "Prefect? Thank Merlin I'm not."

"Well, it's- it's bad for your health!" Hermione spluttered, "I- oh, whatever," she stormed off in the other direction.

"She's been so… uptight recently," Ginny commented, staring after her. "Dunno why. I think it's the lack of sleep. Did you know I caught her creeping back into the dormitories this morning at six?"

Ron choked on the cork he was licking. "That's funny, because I saw Fred- "

Fred hastily thumped Ron on the back a little too hard (whoops) and steered him away from Ginny.

Ron finally spat out the cork, his eyes as round as saucers. "Are you two….You know….?"

"No, I don't know," Fred retorted, "now mind your own business little bro." He fled before Ron could speak more about the subject.

The Ravenclaws trailed in last, and grinned as they heard the great cheer that welcomed them.

"Brilliant, man!" Ron roared, "whose idea was it to transfigure a branch into a broom?"

"Mine," Cho said, beaming. "But Michael did the hard work."

"It really was an ingenious plan," Hermione smiled, settling down into a sofa. "So well planned and thought out."

"Thanks, Hermione," Padma raised her own bottle of butterbeer, "here's to making Malfoy looking like a fool!"

"Here, here!" George cheered loudly.

"Can someone go through what exactly happened?" Neville asked, a little shyly. "I mean, I saw the match but I don't' get everything…"

"Me neither," Luna Lovegood said.

Everybody stared at her. "But you're a Ravenclaw!" Ron pointed out.

"Great observation," Fred said sarcastically, "look! You can recognise the badge on her uniform!"

"Shut up," Ron's ears went red.

"I mean, the nargles were infesting Malfoy's brain, but the other team members also had them too- and the squiggly poggets were-"

Ginny cleared her throat. "Maybe someone can enlighten us," she hastily said, exchanging a Look with Hermione.

Terry Boot smirked and settled into a bean bag. "Here's what we did..."

* * *

The parchment that Cho had given to Lee revealed its contents, as promised, one hour before the match.

Lee read it quickly. It was a script, of what he was to say. "Wouldn't Malfoy, stupid as he is, figure out that what I'm saying doesn't go with the game?"

"Malfoy's too sure of himself," Ginny said, "He only wants to win the game by catching the snitch so he can have the whole glory. He doesn't pay much attention to the game. Come on, the game's about to start."

Michael and Terry snuck into the Slytherin Common room (with the helpful help of some Slytherin first years who thought, with their stolen uniforms, that they were transfer students), exchanged Malfoy's dreaded Inquisitorial Squad Badge with their own spelled one and laughed themselves silly when Malfoy dashed out of his room, already under the enchantment.

The badge had been dipped in a potion that caused illusions. While not as effective as drinking the potion, it still worked rather well through smell. The potion was voice activated-Terry had stolen some of Malfoy's and Lee's hair- so that whatever Lee said, Malfoy would see it.

Hiding behind the marble stairs in the entrance Hall, Padma and Marietta hid their giggles as they cast a spell over various objects in the room. It was a simple spell- one that carried their voices so it seemed that it came out of objects from a great distance.

"Psst! Malfoy…" Padma whispered.

The aim of this, as Cho as said, was to make Malfoy become defensive. It was common knowledge that people would do anything to win the match, so naturally a player on the team would be on guard at all times. She read somewhere that people, with their guard up, tend to focus on one particular sense and neglect one of the others. So, she thought, if they made Malfoy hear things he shouldn't be hearing, he'll get all defensive, be suspicious of the weird voices, and he'll be so focused on the voices that he'll fail to see anything out of place.

So, Malfoy had fallen into their trap. He had become dependent upon his hearing sense, rather than sight.

Marietta whispered his name one final time and gleefully watched as he threw down his broomstick and attempted to stun them. Quick as a flash, while his back was against them, Padma summoned his broom while Michael (who'd followed them from the Slytherin Common Room) transfigured an ordinary branch and replaced the useless fake broom beside him. While it looked exactly like a magical broom, this new broom was useful only for sweeping leaves.

Phase one of plan was done, and now rested upon the shoulders of Lee Jordon and Cho Chang.

The Ravenclaws had planned well. They knew their enemy and used their knowledge about the enemy against them. Everybody knew that Malfoy liked to make the opposite team's seeker feel nervous by tailing them. So Cho had been prepared.

Instead of kicking off like the rest of the team, Cho remained on the ground with Malfoy, who, being under the effects of the potion and Lee's voice, thought he had kicked off too, watched as he awkwardly ran towards her with that smirk on his face.

Biting back at how absurd he looked (after all, Malfoy thought he was flying), Cho led him to the hoops, where the Slytherin Chasers were to throw their quaffles in.

At this point, Cho kicked off (for real) and was searching for the snitch while Lee Jordon shouted out from his script (much to the puzzlement of the audience). The Ravenclaws were the ones who were winning, (thirty-nil when Malfoy heard Sixty-nil to Slytherin), and when Lee had pointed out the fake snitch to Malfoy, Cho had seen the real one and was flying to reach it, while Malfoy hopped around on his useless broom, knocking the quaffle from a fellow Slytherin (and a Ravenclaw Chaser caught it and scored a goal, remembering to flash Malfoy a small smirk) and was grabbing at thin air.

But, Terry added at the end, none of them expected the bonus at the end, when the Slytherin Captain had swung the bat at Malfoy and knocked him out cold. (In case you were wondering, the shrieking bludgers that Malfoy saw was a Slytherin Chaser and the Captain shouting at him that the snitch was in the other direction, and why are you hopping about instead of flying?)

"Genius!" Fred sniggered, "I'll never forget the look on Malfoy's face when he got knocked out!"

"I just hope he wasn't hit that bad," Hermione said worriedly, "I mean-"

"Who cares?" Ron said loudly, "he's hurt. That's all that matters."

Fred poured out the firewhisky (which made Hermione pinch her lips together) and they all cheered as they clinked the glasses.

"Ah, sweet revenge," Padma said with a sly smile. "That's what you get when you mess with the DA."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped suddenly. Everybody turned around to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Oh, nothing," Hermione said, giving Fred a small Look, "I just forgot to do the essay, you know, the one for Potions."

"That's due in two weeks, Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head, "that's ages away."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione said reluctantly, fully acting the part.

As the party broke up at around midnight, Hermione stayed behind, grabbing Fred's sleeve as he turned to leave.

"Four thirty," she whispered urgently, before releasing him and running to catch up with Harry and Ron.

* * *

"I know now!" Hermione said, pacing about, "it's been us all along!"

"Come again?" Fred asked, propping his feet up on the wooden table.

"The DA!" She exclaimed.

"It's your diary," Fred reminded her. "You were the one who wrote about the people. They just twisted your words."

"I know- but, oh! I have to tell somebody!" Hermione was wringing her hands anxiously. "I c-can't- but I n-need, he said- but-"

Fred looked around the common room. "Where's Crookshanks?" he asked, remembering that he hadn't seen the ginger cat for ages now.

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers, before, to Fred's horror, filling with tears.

"He's got him!" she sobbed, as Fred awkwardly patted her on the back. For some reason, Hermione made him nervous. When Angelina or Katie cried, he just told them a joke and moved on. But with Hermione- his mind just went blank, no jokes, no ideas for pranks, nada.

"Who's got who?"

"Filch!" Hermione said, frightened, "he's g-got Crookshanks!"

"But why?" Fred asked, bewildered. He gave her a tissue he'd conjured up.

"Two weeks ago," Hermione said, calmer now that she'd dried her tears and blew her nose, "I was at the Owlery, Crookshanks was with me. I was sending my mother a birthday card."

"Oh, I remember, I saw you!" Fred said. He and George were at the owlery too- they were sending a letter to the Daily Prophet about their advertisement.

"Well, Filch was obviously ticked off about something. He started accusing me that I was ordering Dungbombs and what-not, and when I denied it, he said "Don't lie, you filthy girl!" So, I… lost my temper and, oh Fred! I told him that if he'd continued to interrogate me, I will go and order some dungbombs. Then Filch grabbed Crookshanks and said that he's gonna take him away, because he's sick of giving useless detentions and Dumbledore won't let him whip people, and if I want my cat back, I have to write a comment about a list of people-"

"Whoa, back up," Fred handed Hermione a glass of water, "he-Filch- told you to write that diary? Why?"

"Yes, he said that I was to write nasty things about the people on the list. I didn't realise back then that, obviously, he was going to actually want that list and my comments back- I was so worried about Crookshanks that I just did what he said. I'm so foolish! I should have just written one-liners and have done with it! I guess I got carried away... anyway, I had an old diary that I wrote last year, so I decided to just write in that, of course, though, I planned to rip out the first pages. I was having an off day, you know, when Ron and Harry refused to speak each other- it was driving me crazy! I know I was really mean but-" she took a huge gulp of water. Fred waited patiently for her to continue.

" Anyway, what Padma just said- I realised! I was so wrapped up about getting Crookshanks back, that I didn't realise that the names on the list were exactly the same names in the DA! Someone must've told Umbridge about us!"

"Umbridge?"

"Yes, her. I don't see Filch coming up with this sort of plan, do you? Kidnapping a cat, yes, I can understand that. Filch probably wants a companion for Mrs Norris or something-"

Fred struggled not to laugh out loud.

"-but getting me to write nasty things about members of the DA? It has Umbridge written all over it!"

"But why? Why do all this?"

"I don't know!" Hermione started to wring her hands again. "Oh, I absolutely _hate not knowing!"_

"Maybe…" Fred thought, "Maybe she wanted to publicly humiliate the people who are against her. Everybody knows that we don't support her. So she probably wanted somebody to write –you were the lucky chosen one- bad stuff about them that only friends should know about. She'll rewrite the entries, chuck in a few things, twist the words to make them sound evil and display the entries for the whole school body to see."

"Yes…" Hermione sat down, staring intently into the fire, "she gets to humiliate us, and at the same time, turn the members of DA against each other! I mean, nobody except Ron and I knew what exactly happened in first year, so naturally, when the entry goes up, members of the DA would start pointing fingers at Ron and me…"

"Ruin the whole team morale thing…"

"….embarrass us… and disband the DA without making it seem like she's the bad one! The only person we can accuse is Filch! Oh, this is great! Thanks Fred!"

And without thinking, she jumped up from her seat, and wrapped her arms around his body.

"Er-" Fred bit his lip, not knowing whether to return the gesture or push her away gently. His brain screamed out that if somebody came and saw them like this, they'd assume…but on the other hand, why not? The hug was nice. It was a friendly hug. Between two friends.

Yes, Fred decided. We're friends, and friends hug. I see Hermione hugging Ron and Harry all the time-wait, why did that thought make me feel sick?

So he hugged her back, ignoring all thoughts about this being inappropriate, and, for some reason when they released each other, ten minutes had gone by.

"Thanks Fred," Hermione said, her cheeks red, then she hurried upstairs.

He was still sitting in the chair, ignoring the weird tingling sensation in his stomach, when she scrambled back down the stairs and thrust his something into his hands.

His wand.

"Hey-thanks Hermione!" he beamed, but she'd already gone back upstairs.

* * *

"Hera," Fred said tiredly to the Fat Lady. It was the next morning, and Fred had not slept a single wink after that hug -uh, _Friendly hug -with Hermione._

"Incorrect," the woman in the portrait said, studying the delicate wine glass clutched in her meaty hands.

"But that's the password!" Fred protested.

"Not for you."

"Oh come on, we've always been the best of pals, haven't we? Not once have you told the professors about my exploring at night time."

"But that's because you always provided me with news around the castle!" The Fat Lady finally snapped.

"I'm sorry, all right?" Fred said, exasperated, "I was in a shoddy mood and I just wanted some privacy."

The Lady's eyes softened. "What happened?" she asked, suddenly sounding far too eager.

"Oh, the usual," Fred said airily. Then- "Hey, you're female, aren't you?"

The Fat Lady pinched her lips together angrily. "Excuse me?" She asked in a dangerous tone.

"I mean, you're female, obviously." Fred hastily added. "Uh… do girls hug guys all the time?"

"Well," The Fat Lady drew herself up and set the wine glass down onto a table behind her. "When I was painted, no- a lady can only display affectionate feelings to her betrothed publicly. But I've been here for centuries, so I'm going to say, yes, girls hug guys all the time- you won't believe how many people –what is the term nowadays?- _make out_ in front of us portraits, as if we can't see them… not that I'm complaining, mind, I do enjoy being entertained."

For an odd reason, Fred's heart soared. "So, you mean," Fred chose his next words carefully, "that girls only hugged guys they fancied?"

"Oh no, I didn't say that!" The Lady laughed, waving her hand at him. "Girls hug guys that are friends too- and they also hug guys who they fancy. You see, it comes down to the hug itself. The question you should be asking is not _whether _girls hug guys, but what_defines _a friendly hug or an affectionate, loving hug.___"_

"I'm all ears," Fred said eagerly.

"I'm sorry," someone said behind him. "Are you seriously asking about girl stuff with a portrait that has been stuck in the castle for, like, a thousand years?"

"Excuse me," the Fat Lady said with her lips pinched, "I was only painted three centuries ago. I am _not _that old. Now, if you'll excuse me." She walked out of her frame and joined the rowdy crowd of drunken singers in the portrait on the opposite wall.

Fred recognised that voice anywhere. He slowly wheeled about.

"What did I tell you about minding your own business, little bro?" Fred tried to sound casual, sticking his hands into his pockets.

Ron glared at Fred. "Do you fancy Hermione?" he demanded.

Fred scoffed, "Of course not!" he exclaimed, "me, fancy _Hermione? _Not in a thousand years!"

Ron's shoulders relaxed and his ears returned to its normal flesh colour. "Then that's alright then."

"What… makes you think I fancy Hermione, anyway?" Fred asked, trying to sound as if he didn't care one bit.

"Well, I dunno, I'm no good with these things… but, you always act differently around her, y'know? Like, if Angelina or somebody tells you off, you have a good laugh and you don't pay them attention, but when Hermione tells you off, you actually back down. And recently, well, you used to sort of not talk to her a lot, but now it just seems, I dunno, like you guys have a secret or something."

"We do not!" Fred said loudly. He was mortified. Ron- the thick headed Ron- had figured out that he and Hermione were hiding something from them.

Then again, Ron did think Fred fancied Hermione. Well, that said a lot about his little brother's intelligence, didn't it?

"Listen," Fred said, a bit more forcefully than he ought to. "I don't fancy her. I mean she's… neurotic, uptight, boring, studious, smart, stubborn, and she….she used to have buck teeth!"

"_Excuse me?"_

Fred felt his heart skip a beat as he saw Hermione stalking angrily towards him. "Oh, hi Hermione," he said cheerfully, "nice weather, aye?"

"Neurotic? Uptight?" She screeched, "_Boring?"_

"Well… yeah," Fred said honestly. It was strange how vulnerable she seemed at four thirty in the morning, yet so scary in broad daylight.

"Well, at least I don't slop water down my front every time someone enters a room!"

"That's because…at least I don't cave into blackmail!"

"Are you, Fred Weasley, actually suggesting that I not do what he said- Crookshanks is my cat!"

"Filch is a cat lover," Fred yelled, "Crookshanks probably enjoys Filch's company more than yours!"

Silence.

"Oh you did _not _just say that," Ron breathed.

"Y-you filthy, stupid, cockroach!" Hermione yelled, before turning her heel and rushing down the stairs. Fred was horrified to see that she actually sounded genuinely upset.

"Hermione!" Fred called after her. "Wait! I'm sorry!"

He dashed after her with an amused Ron and Fat Lady gazing after them.

"They sound like a married couple, don't they?" The Fat Lady said fondly.

"Yeah… wait, what?"

"I mean, look at them, they obviously like each other."

"You're wrong," Ron spluttered, "Fred-my brother, and Hermione?" he laughed, "come off it!"

"Oh, I'm right, you just see. I'm not guardian of Gryffindor house for nothing, you know."

"Guardian?" Ron snorted, "More like door keeper."

The Fat Lady glared at him. "Portraits get no respect. Absolutely none at all," she sniffed, before leaving the drunken people behind her and walking stiffly to another portrait.

"Hey!" Ron yelled, "I need to get in there! Wait! Come back!"

* * *

Hermione's and Fred's argument was forgotten however, when they both entered the Great Hall the next morning. For hanging there, motionless in mid-air, hovered yet another entry of Hermione's diary.

**_"Patient Number Five: Cho Chang_**

_Though, I suppose rather grudgingly, one cannot deny that she's easy on the eyes, it is perhaps the only positive thing I can say about the asinine Ravenclaw. Ignoring the innocent façade, the glorious complexion and the gaggle of girls she seems insistent on wearing as accessories, it has become rather obvious as the weeks go by, that the girl is simply a bag of emotions and nothing more._

_It is common knowledge that she shared a relationship with a Cedric Diggory last year. And yes, though it is somewhat upsetting that he died, it gives her no good reason to be temperamental. It is absolutely absurd that she insists on creating an atmosphere of awkwardness when one moment, she's a nice ray of sunshine, talking happily, and the next, she starts to cry and moan about how terrible her life is. One life has already ended, so must she ruin others as well? _

_There is nothing more despicable than a girl who thinks she's the poorest, most unfortunate person in the world and expects everybody else to understand her oh-so-awful situation, when really, what she is experiencing is nothing more than what a brainless main character in an awfully written book may undergo- where the plot is nothing more substantial than some over-dramatic high school 'dilemma' where the girl faces so many 'difficult and life-threatening' situations- meaning, she has to chose one boy over the other, and when one of those boys leave her, she crawls up and attempts suicide. It's sad, how a Hogwarts student- no, as a member of the female gender- can fall into such disgusting circumstances. I am ashamed. I am utterly ashamed to be categorised as the same sort as her-"_

"You know," Fred whispered, leaning towards Hermione who sat beside him, "whoever wrote this actually sounds like you."

Hermione blushed, "they didn't change much for this entry," she muttered, not meeting his eyes, "I mean, I don't mind Cho and all, but sometimes she makes me feel so angry-"

"-because you're a total feminist," Fred said, nodding, "Yeah I can see how her behaviour irks you."

"Anyway," Hermione continued on pointedly, "See how its tone and style is completely different to the person who wrote Parviti's? I mean, sure, I was the one who wrote the original version, but there are still bits that they rewrote and added."

"That means different people are writing this up. Umbridge has given a particular group of students your diary to do whatever they want with it."

Hermione nodded, deep in thought. "It makes sense, why not fight the DA- a group of students, with another group of students? She doesn't have much support with the staff. Well, except for Filch."

Fred waved a hand, "Filch barely qualifies as staff," he said, "but if we're right in thinking about this particular group of students she's favouring-"

"-Then it must be the Inquisitorial Squad!" Hermione breathed. "Of course! Malfoy and some other Slytherins are in it, I bet they're having such an amusing time with my diary. If only we had proof," she sighed.

Fred raised an eyebrow, "proof?" he asked, "Who needs proof when you've got Fred Weasley?"

* * *

**Okay, I admit, I didn't like this chapter at all. In my defense though- I wrote this chapter squeezed in whenever I had time, so some points were, perhaps, a bit disjointed etc. Please don't blame me. Blame university- blame the stupid reality of having to study and do assignments to pass the year!**

**Oh, and I realise that there are many plot holes, and some things don't make sense etc. etc. I guess that's what happens when I don't plan ahead. I'm the kind that writes whatever that pops into my brain. I really do need to have an actual plan as to where this story is going...**

**Ahem, so...review? After all, I did manage to type up this chapter (no matter how bad I think it is)...**

**:D Happy easter everyone!**


	6. Patient no 6: Fred Weasley

**Chapter six**

* * *

"Well?" Her fingers tapped impatiently against the hard wooden surface of her table.

The three people that sat opposite her didn't so much as blink at her. Two of them were staring pointedly at one of the cats on her wall and the other one had his eyes fixed firmly on his knees.

Umbridge forced herself not to lose her temper. She knew that threatening the three people before her would never work. So she rearranged her features into what she hoped looked as if she was just merely concerned, rather than wanting to crucio them into the next millennium.

"Professor Snape is very angry about the outcome of the match," Umbridge said sweetly, "and rightly so. Both of us were not present at the match, but you three, I believe, were there for the entire duration."

Still no response.

Umbridge's smile wavered for a split second.

"May I ask as to _why_ you let the match unfold as it did?"

The person sitting in the middle finally averted her gaze from the cat and stared coolly into her eyes. "You may," she said curtly.

Umbridge bristled at her tone. "Then," she inhaled deeply to avoid yelling obscenities at the obstinate woman, "why did you let the Ravenclaw team injure the Slytherin seeker?"

"We didn't allow them," Professor McGonagall said firmly, "we were unaware of the plan."

Liar! Umbridge shouted, Liar! This is a plot to overthrow me!

Of course, she didn't say that out loud. It would not do to show any form of weakness-especially in front of Dumbledore's most loyal followers.

"But surely, as the match began, you realised that something was wrong with Draco Malfoy?"

"O f course not," Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared, "The boy was running around idiotically. Given from what I know of him, that was not out of the norm. And since when did being confunded classified as an injury?"

"_He was not confunded!"_ Umbridge screeched.

A small flash of triumph appeared in Professor McGonagall's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had came.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, "well, what do you think happened to him?"

"He was obviously hexed by the Ravenclaw quidditch team!"

"And you have evidence backing your accusation?"

"I need no evidence!" Umbridge had lost all shreds of control, "_I_ am _Headmistress _of Hogwarts!"

Minerva merely looked at her indifferently. "Yes," she said slowly, "I'm sure you consider yourself Headmistress. Tell me then, Dolores, when was the last time you occupied the Head's office?"

"I-I- I am comfortable here, Minerva! And we are not discussing about my rightful position, but rather _your _lack of control over the students!"

"I'm old," Minerva sighed, "my sight isn't as good as it was. I didn't see anything wrong, except Malfoy making a fool out of himself. Then again, he _was _the boy who came up with the idea of dressing up as Dementors. I wasn't surprised by his behaviour."

"And you didn't question why the commentator was shouting out things that were so very obviously not happening?"

"Like I said," Minerva's gaze never wavered from Umbridge's face, "I'm getting old. I guess my hearing isn't as good as it was too."

Umbridge decided that interrogating the Transfiguration Professor was a lost cause. She studied the remaining two people who had yet to speak and decided that the man studying his knees was the more vulnerable target.

"Flitwick!" Umbridge barked. "Your quidditch team broke the rules- I want to see punishment!"

"Rules?" Flitwick squeaked, "what rules? I'm afraid I haven't got the _authority_ or the _time_, unlike you, Headmistress, to read the rulebook thoroughly."

"I'm not idling about, if that's what you're saying!" Umbridge said angrily.

Flitwick blinked innocently up at her. "But I didn't _say _that you were idling about."

"No, but you suggested that- Ravenclaw injured Malfoy!"

"I thought I established that Malfoy was merely confunded and not injured?" McGonagall broke in.

"_He was not Confunded_!" Umbridge wanted to tear her hear out in frustration. "He was obviously hexed by members of the Ravenclaw team!"

"And I distinctly remember that I asked for evidence, Dolores," McGonagall said, "and you have yet to provide it."

"Evidence?" Umbridge hissed, "evidence? I'll give you evidence. Filch!" She called, clapping her hands.

The caretaker opened the door to her office and marched in, awaiting his orders.

"Dear Merlin," McGonagall breathed, "Argus! Don't tell me you actually _enjoy _being her slave!"

Filch pretended not to hear her. "You asked for me, Headmistress?" He said, bowing low.

"Confiscate the wands of all the Ravenclaw students," Umbridge ordered. "Now!"

"As you wish, Headmistress," with another bow, Filch slouched out of the room, Mrs Norris meowing gleefully at his heels.

"Now we shall see who is right," Umbridge smiled. "In the meantime, I think I'll ban Ravenclaw from playing quidditch."

"Of course you will Dolores, I thought as much. Were you also going to dismiss Lee Jordon from being Commentator?"

"I-"

"-Why am I asking you? Of course you were," McGonagall continued. "You're also going to bring Potter into this somehow, weren't you?"

"I-"

"-No doubt throwing Potter off the team was not enough for you. I'm sure Fudge will be very happy once you expel the boy whose mere existence could topple him from his position as Minister-"

"-How_ dare_ you speak of the Minister of Magic in such a way?" Umbridge shouted, standing up.

"In the same way _you _dare to allow degrading comments about _your_ students to be publicly displayed!" McGonagall stood up also, towering over the short witch. "And don't tell me you have nothing to do with all this!"

"What was it again?" Umbridge said sweetly, "oh yes '_and you have evidence backing your accusation_?'"

"Of course I do," Professor McGonagall said, "I have witnesses- yes, Dolores- witness_es_, as well as a piece of parchment that you left so fortunately in the library. Do you want me to read it out loud?"

"That is not necessary," Umbridge said quickly. "And we are dealing with the problem about the Ravenclaws at the moment."

"Yes," McGonagall looked down at the short witch and gave a derisive snort, "Of course. Well, seeing as you have everything under control-" she turned and left the room.

Professor Flitwick beamed at the fuming Umbridge before following McGonagall out as well.

All that was left in the office was Umbridge and the person who had yet to speak.

Professor Sprout was still staring at the cat, refusing to acknowledge Umbridge's presence.

Umbridge heaved a great sigh. "You are excused, Pomona," she bit out.

Sprout blinked. "Thank goodness!" She said, "Staying in here with you is just torture! How _do _you manage to do so every day?" And without waiting for an answer, she too, hurried out the room.

Umbridge waited until the door was shut before shouting out every curse-word she knew.

* * *

Fred peered around the corner, dragging Hermione behind him.

"I really don't think-" she began, only to have his hand cover her mouth.

"Shh!" He hissed, "Stealth is crucial for our mission!"

Hermione snorted.

"Ugh, gross!" Fred wiped his hand against his trousers. "Who does that?"

"And what, exactly, is your mission?" Hermione asked, not willing to be deterred by his antics.

"To get revenge, of course! Oh, and have some fun," he cracked an evil grin, "Who would want to pass up a chance to give Malfoy what he really deserves?"

"It's not just Malfoy," Hermione reminded him, "Some other Slytherins are in it too. Seventh years. I'm angry at them, but I don't think acting without thinking is a good way to-"

"Acting without thinking?" Fred spluttered, "I _never_ act without thinking! I've got it all planned out. First we tackle him, hex him, get your diary off him, hex him some more, stuff him into a toilet, then take his picture while he's in it and post it up for the whole school to see! It's ingenious!"

"It's absurd," Hermione told him flatly. "And how do you know Malfoy's got the diary, anyway? It could be sitting in Umbridge's office for all we know."

"It's not," Fred assured her. "Trust me."

Hermione sighed, "I don't think I can," she said honestly. "See, the last time I trusted you, I thought you weren't going to lose my diary, but you did-"

"-How was I to know someone would stick their arm into the armchair?" Fred protested, "and-" his eyes went wide, "how did somebody from the Inquisitorial Squad get into the Gryffindor Common Room? We must have a betrayer amidst us!"

She rolled her eyes. "Filch's involved, remember?" she sighed. "He can go into any Common room he wants. It doesn't take a genius to know where you hid it."

"Then why didn't you take it back?" Fred asked, as realisation suddenly dawned on him. "Everything could've been avoided if you had taken back the diary!"

"I can't touch it," Hermione admitted, "As soon as I finished writing about everybody on the list, the diary would not let me near it. I'll get my hands burned. I wanted to ask you to tear out the entries (especially the ones about Harry and Ron, which I wrote under my own free will back in fourth year) when I came around to my senses and realised what I was actually doing, but you were avoiding me, and then the diary got stolen…"

To Fred's horror, Hermione's eyes swelled with tears. "I'm so stupid!" she sobbed. "Why did I even do all this? How could I have let Umbridge manipulate me in this way? I'm supposed to be intelligent!"

Fred bit his lip, not knowing exactly how to comfort her. He considered offering her a puking pastille (they were rather tasty) but thought that making her spew was probably not the best idea for consolation. Instead, he patted her back awkwardly.

"You are intelligent," he said dumbly, then winced.

Hermione laughed and sobbed at the same time. "You're horrible at this," she informed him.

Fred frowned at her. "Well, it's not like I have girls crying around me all the time. They tend to be happy to be near me. Some consider it a privilege."

Hermione hiccupped, "W-what?" she said, "Excuse me, a _privilege_? To be around _you_?"

"Of course," Fred grinned, glad that she had stopped crying, "I don't know why though-must be because of my charm and dashing handsomeness."

"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes, "and the fact that you offer to prank their ex-boyfriends if they paid you ten galleons."

They heard footsteps approaching. Fred pushed Hermione into the secret niche behind the statue, ignoring her gasp of protest.

Fred drew his wand out, listening intently.

"Listen to this," someone said, "I don't think we need to change anything from this entry. Who knew that filthy mudblood could write something like this?"

Fred bristled at Malfoy's tone and choice of words. He gripped his wand tightly and edged forward.

"Whassit say?" That was definitely Goyle's voice. "Whossit about?"

Malfoy paused dramatically. Then he lowered his voice into a stage whisper. "Fred Weasley," he said, no doubt with a smirk plastered onto his face.

Fred froze as he heard his name. He heard Hermione gasp in horror behind him.

"No!" She whispered.

The Slytherin seeker and his two gorillas came closer towards the Gryffindors, but Fred found himself unable to move. Half of him wanted to know what Hermione thought about him, and the other half told him to just hex Malfoy already.

"_Patient Number six- Fred Weasley_," Malfoy read in a haughty voice. "_Problems_-"

With a cry of battle, Hermione rushed out of her hiding place and launched herself at the stunned Slytherin.

"Give. That. Back. To. Me!" She screamed, forgetting that she was a witch and attempted to beat the crap out of Malfoy.

Unfortunately, she was half the height of Goyle and Crabbe, and about a third of their weight. She was thrown, rather harshly, from Malfoy and the two gorillas guffawed as Hermione struggled to get up from the ground.

At the sight of Hermione clutching her twisted ankle, Fred leapt into action. "Stupefy!" he yelled, stunning the two gorillas. Unfortunately, Malfoy was prepared and had already cast a Shield Charm.

"Come to save your girlfriend, Weasley?" Malfoy taunted from behind his shield. "I knew you were a blood traitor, but I never realised that you'd actually want to _date_ one of these filthy things."

Fred narrowed his eyes, "clam it, git," he warned, sparks erupting from the end of his wand.

"Give the book back to me, Malfoy," Hermione demanded from behind Fred. She avoided looking at the red-head and instead stared straight into Malfoy's eyes. "_Now_."

"And miss all the fun? Don't you want to know what your girlfriend wrote about you?" Malfoy dangled the precious book in front of Fred, who was torn between snatching it and destroying the book once and for all, and letting Malfoy read out the entry.

"Fred!" Hermione yelled, "what are you doing?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Fred said stupidly, his brain had suddenly shut down on him.

Malfoy smirked, "well, it seems like you want to know what she wrote, isn't that right, weasel?"

"N-no," Fred said, realising that he was now under Malfoy's –Malfoy of all people!- control.

"Of course you do, I'll help you out. I'll read it out loud-nice and loud for you."

Hermione tried to stand up, but fell again. Her ankle was killing her, and her wand had flew out of her pocket when Crabbe and Goyle and hurled her down the hall way. It lay far out of her reach. She tried to Summon it, but nothing happened.

She could only listen to Malfoy reading out her entry, and watching Fred as his face became whiter and whiter and his grip around his wand grow tighter and tighter.

_"Problems:_

_Immature. Juvenile. Childish- no matter what synonym I use, nothing really describes the extent of Fred Weasley's personality accurately. Words cannot be used to attempt and illustrate his true self- they can merely hint at it, for their meanings would only underestimate just how despicable and infantile he really is. _

_He cracks jokes about people for the fun of it, so he says. He pulls pranks because it's fun, so he says. So he says that for everything that he does. He hides behind his little denigrating smile and cold mask of indifference, when it is obvious that all he wants is attention. Attention, no doubt, that his mother spent on his older, more mature and responsible brothers. I don't fault her for having doing so- what is there to praise Fred about? His oh-so –creative pranks, that serve as his petty amusement at the expense of others? His appalling grades that he doesn't even try to feel bad about? His sick need to criticise those who he considers as inferior to him? _

_No. Nothing good about him comes to mind._

_Just having to think about the deplorable deeds that he's done- just having to recall them- makes me feel nauseous. Why should I waste precious ink, parchment and more importantly, my thoughts, on him? Of all the people I've written about, Fred Weasley is probably the only one I absolutely refuse to dwell on, to write about. But I have to, and now I'm not going to write anymore._

_Solutions:_

_None necessary. He's far beyond any help."_

Malfoy slammed the diary shut with immense satisfaction. The look on the Weasel and Mudblood's face was priceless.

"I fully agree with you there, Mudblood," he shot at Hermione, who had frozen and was staring helplessly at the Fred's back. "He truly is '_beyond any help'_."

Smirking, Malfoy threw the book at Fred, who let it bounce off his chest, and strode away, leaving his two gorillas behind.

Hermione tried to speak. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She watched as Fred slowly bent down and pick up the diary, his face unreadable and his eyes unnaturally cold.

Then suddenly, he threw the book at the wall. The deafening bang that accompanied it woke Hermione up.

"Fred!" She called out, tears once again blossoming out of her eyes. "I didn't mean-"

"-You didn't mean _what,_ Hermione?" Fred challenged her with a look that rivalled the iciness of an iceberg. "Tell me, what part didn't you mean? And don't feed me the rubbish that Malfoy rewrote it, because he didn't. I recognise your handwriting."

"I-"

"-You know what? Forget it. I can't believe that I actually forgot how cruel a person you really are. I deluded myself into thinking that you were just angry that Ron and Harry weren't on speaking terms with each other in fourth year, that you felt bad about what you did, that- that-" He didn't know what else to say.

"I _do,_ Fred!" Hermione whispered, gazing up at him, wanting him to understand. "I do feel bad! I wanted to burn the entire thing after I wrote it! But I couldn't!"

"But you wrote it, didn't you?" Fred accused, "you could've not written down anything at all. You could've believed in your friends and saved Crookshanks without going through all this."

"I know," Hermione said quietly, "I regret not telling you guys. I do. I truly do. I-"

"-But then you didn't consider us your friends, do you, Granger?" Fred asked, turning away from her as if just looking at her tear-streaked face disgusted him, "because if you did, you wouldn't have written these things."

"But you _are_ my friend!" Hermione protested, "I just- You can't believe the guilt I felt after I wrote it-"

"Yes, _after _you wrote it," Fred mimicked her. "I bet you had loads of fun while you were writing it, didn't you? Having a nice laugh behind our backs, weren't you?"

"No I wasn't!" Hermione said between sobs. "I felt horrible! I was not-"

"Well congratulations," Fred cut her off sarcastically, "you got what you want. I'm not your friend anymore. In fact, I refuse to be."

"Fred-"

"-I'm leaving the diary here. Do whatever you want with it. Continue writing about your 'friends' all you want." And without a backward glance, Fred left her there- sitting on the cold stone floor, clutching her twisted ankle, crying.

And the diary sat there too. Looking just as innocent as ever.

* * *

** Sorry for the very short chapter, but uni has started again, and I have tests coming up. As always, please review! Also, apologies for some plot holes and inconsistencies! I plan to re-edit this story once I've finished, to clear things up and to re-word some things.**

**Thanks so much for reading this far and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	7. The Prankster Gets Pranked

**Chapter seven**

* * *

There are times when you find yourself temporarily excused from participating in any activities. Times that you choose to just sit down in that comfortable couch, to close your eyes and just _think_.

Well, Fred did that.

The first thing he did, after having subjected his ears to that atrocious and infuriating reading that Malfoy had performed so readily, was to pull aside the tapestry and head straight for the Gryffindor Common Room. He had, rather tiredly and snappishly, ordered the third year occupying his couch, to 'kindly relieve your large behind from my seat-_now_!' before he slumped down with a loud, audible sigh.

Now Fred Weasley, Part One of Two of the Weasley Duo, was never one to admit defeat- or, Melin forbid, to outwardly show any form of regret. But recent events dictated that even though a small portion lay in Hermione's fault, he could not deny that his actions were entirely inexcusable.

He had known that Hermione was blackmailed into participating in the whole Umbridge's-Master-Plan-To-Rule-Hogwarts plan, known of the diary accounts that she'd written (which he had read), and he had agreed full heartedly to help her bring down the whole evil scheme.

Now, he wasn't saying that Hermione was entirely right, that she was the poor victim who had absolutely no control of her actions. She could have avoided the whole gory incident to begin with. All Filch told her was to write something bad about the list of people he'd provided her with. All she had to do was to scribble down some less-than-complimentary adjectives, handed it back to him and get her cat back.

Unfortunately, Hermione Granger was too much of a model student, and had gone overboard with describing her fellow DA members. Perhaps, Fred reasoned, Filch and Umbridge had provided her a means to vent out her feelings. She already had already plenty of practise back in fourth year after all.

Fred regretted that he'd left her there, ankle twisted, sitting piteously on the dungeon floor, with that horrid book lying not two feet from her. But he had a right to be furious. All the other accounts-before they were modified- spoke only of her desire to gain some recognition for her efforts. Not one of them was just simply degrading and downright mean.

But his was.

Fred winced as he replayed Malfoy's taunting words: "_Immature. Juvenile." _Adjectives Hermione had used to describe him.

It was weird, wasn't it, how she had said things far worse than this about him, and yet those three words had cut him the deepest. Those words had been repeated to him by nearly every member of his family (some at his face, others behind his back) and yet, when Hermione had said it, it had felt like she had stuck a dagger in his chest, twisted it harshly, hammered it deeper, before finally wrenching it out again.

He absentmindedly massaged his chest as that image burned in his mind. He thought about those two words…

"Fred?"

It was spoken with guarded curiousness, with a hint of regret and guilt, and a whole jarful of sweetness.

He opened his eyes and stared up into her eyes. He'd never realised how warm they were, how much joy they gave him until now. Compared to his own blue eyes which spoke of adventures and journeys (of course, right now, Fred's eyes just spoke of a dull tiredness) hers reflected the embers and warmth of a fire that one returned to after a long day.

Fred shook his head violently. Where the hell was he getting these thoughts from?

Hermione tentatively lay a hand on his shoulder, which although was supposed to be comforting and spoke of apologies, seemed like a bolt of lightning running up and down his arm. He jerked his arm away, much to her sadness.

"Fred, I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I mean, I can't say that I didn't mean all those things. I did write it after all. I really have no excuse for my actions. But you must understand that although I did think of you as acting beneath your age, that I don't anymore."

Fred's heart soared-Although he had no idea why.

"You don't?" His voice seemed strangely deep to him.

"Well, no, of course not! You've proven just how mature you really are, dealing with all my problems. I thought that when you stole my diary, the first thing you'd do would be to read it out in the Great Hall, like you did for Snape and McGonagall. But you didn't. And you also didn't tell anybody about it either, except for George, and even though I had written horrible things about your friends, you remained by my side, you believed in me- you even agreed to help me! That's not something an immature and childish person would do-"

"-No, it's not," Fred grinned. He was unnaturally happy.

He sat up, the wheels in his brain turning already.

"I guess there's no point in me sulking about," he said lightly. Hermione was slightly taken aback as to how quickly he had gone from hating her to helping her, but to his relief, she didn't question him.

"Well," Hermione said thoughtfully, playing with the tassels on the cushions, "we need to get Crookshanks back from Filch first, before we wage an all-out-war with Umbridge."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Yes. In Filch's study. I'm allowed to visit him at night."

Well, that explained her nightly journeys, Fred thought. No wonder I didn't catch her coming out of the dormitories.

"Alright. That's easily amended. I'll do something drastic, distract Filch, you go into his office and get Crookshanks out."

But Hermione wasn't sure. "I tried doing that once," she nibbled her thumb. "Asked Peeves to smash some windows, but Filch had Mrs Norris guarding Crookshanks, and she wouldn't let me take Crookshanks away."

Fred wondered how a mere cat stopped an extraordinary witch from rescuing her own cat.

"So Mrs Norris is a cat. Can't you just stun her, grab your cat, run?"

"Stun Mrs Norris?" She sounded scandalised, "that's horrible!"

"Well then, throw a kitty treat in the opposite direction then!"

"Don't you think I've tried that? Mrs Norris is extremely intelligent!"

"You have no qualms stunning people, why can't you stun a stupid cat?"

"Because wizards and witches have the means to defend themselves! Cats don't!"

"Then what are their claws and teeth for? Decoration?"

"You know that those things are next to useless against spells."

"Well, then, what's the problem? Quick stun, grab Crookshanks, revive Mrs Norris, run! It's so simple!"

"It's against my morals!"

"And writing offensive comments about your friends isn't?"

Silence.

He let Hermione fume for a minute or two before speaking. "How about this then? You go wreck havoc, and I'll grab Crookshanks."

"Without hurting Mrs Norris?" Hermione asked, a bit too hopefully.

"Yes," Fred lied. "I won't hurt it."

Hermione's shoulders slumped in relief and she sat down on the carpet, leaning against the chair he was occupying. From where he was positioned, Fred had a lovely view of the top of her head, and he could see every strand of her hair.

He tried very hard not to breathe in deeply. _What shampoo does she use, anyway?_ He wondered as he succumbed to the temptations and discreetly took a whiff. Her hair smelt very faintly of roses and another smell he couldn't identify.

"...do it?" Hermione was asking him.

Fred snapped back to reality. "Er, what?"

"When should we do it?" She repeated. She twisted her head to look at him, so now, instead of her shiny curls, Fred received the full blast of her eyes.

"Tonight?" He suggested, looking away to avoid looking into her eyes.

"All right," Hermione agreed, though he could see that she was startled at how soon they would have to execute their plan.

* * *

Fred stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way to Filch's office. The trick with sneaking undetected was to not sneak at all. People didn't question you or gave you a second look if you looked as if you belonged there, with a purpose in your mind. They would however, haul you back by the collar of your robes if they saw you ducking behind statues every few minutes.

Hermione had successfully distracted Filch by persuading Peeves to read out Fred's little story. It was the same one that started it all: the one that starred Snape and McGonagall. Except with Peeves in possession of it, Fred was sure that a few extra details would be thrown in.

Sure enough, in the distance, he could hear the poltergeist singing in that annoying off-key voice of his.

"…So little Mr Snape and little Miss McGonagall moved from the table top to the floor to the bed, where the Snape then proceed to undr-"

"-PEEVES!" That was, no doubt, Filch's frustrated voice that barrelled and echoed down the corridor.

Fred silently cursed the fact that Peeves could move. It would have been better if Filch had caught the silly troublemaker at the other side of the castle.

Fred quickened his footsteps and slipped into the office. As soon as he had entered the office, he felt something sharp and pointy dig into his shoe.

Shaking the cat off, Fred pulled out his wand and pointed at it. "Right," he said, "you have two choices, surrender or get stunned."

Mrs Norris picked herself up from where she had fallen, licked her paws clean, and then launched herself at him.

"Ugh-Gerroff me!" Fred painfully extracted the cat's claws from his arm. "STUPEFY!" he bellowed, and looked on with satisfaction as the cat, who was going to jump again, slumped to the floor.

Fred moved the guard cat so she was under Filch's desk, and proceeded to search for Crookshanks.

"Crooks!" Fred called, clicking his tongue. Of all the things he'd done in his life, this was, by far, the most embarrassing thing he'd had to do.

"Crooky!" he remembered Hermione had called her ugly squashed-face cat that once before. He tried again, "Crooky!"

There was a small, barely audible meow. Fred froze. "Crooky?" he asked, looking around.

"Meow!" Crookshanks called again. This time Fred heard it properly, but he still couldn't pinpoint from which direction it came from.

"Keep meowing!" Fred said, pacing around the office. He could still hear Filch's yells that was not loud enough to drown out Peeve's voice.

Crookshanks, to Fred's astonishment, obeyed and continued to meow. He also made some scratching noises to help the wizard out.

At last Fred caught sight of a small, funny shaped rectangular stone wedged in the wall of the room, just behind Filch's desk. Fred pushed it gently and the stones sprang apart, revealing a comfortable cat-sized room, complete with cushions, kitty toys, scratching posts, balls of string, and lots and lots of shredded parchments… It was clearly a five star hotel for cats.

Crookshanks immediately rubbed his body against Fred's legs, purring gratefully, though Fred couldn't see why the cat would want to leave this place.

"Okay, let's go," Fred said, lifting Crookshanks up into his arms.

And then, the wizard and the cat stared in horror as the door to the office swung open, and a fuming Filch stormed in.

* * *

"So, explain yourself."

Fred pretended not to hear.

The cup containing Pumpkin Juice was pushed towards him.

"Drink," she said, glaring up at him.

"I'd rather not," Fred said finally.

Umbridge pursed her lips together. "Explain yourself," she repeated. "What were you doing to Filch's office?"

"Sight-seeing." Fred said.

She gave one last disgusted look before pointing at the door. "Get out," she said abruptly. "Now!"

As Fred closed the door behind her, he could hear the sounds of china smashing and the splashing sounds of the pumpkin juice spilling.

"Fred!"

It was Hermione, rushing at him, Crookshanks safely nestled in her hands. "What did she do? Did she put you in detention?"

"No," Fred petted Crookshanks. He looked into Hermione's eyes, and felt a small shiver down his spine.

"Something wrong? Are you feeling sick?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Fred shook his head. "No, I'm alright." He continued to stare at her.

Hermione glanced away. "Maybe you should sit down?" she suggested. "You look-"

She didn't finish her sentence because she was interrupted. Fred had suddenly grabbed her face, pulled it close to him, and kissed her fiercely on the lips.

"Wha-?" Hermione pulled back, her face flushing. Then her eyes widened. "_Oh!_" She said softly.

Fred backed away. "I knew it," he said hoarsely. "All this time- it's been fun, hasn't it?"

Hermione didn't answer. She looked dazed and confused.

He brushed past her and headed up the staircase, his lips tingling.

* * *

Somebody knocked at her door. It was a gentle knock.

"Come in," Umbridge said. She knew who it was; there was only one person who'd visit her at this time of the night.

The visitor stepped in and closed the door behind them.

"So," Umbridge said, smiling gleefully. "Is it working?"

"Oh yes," the visitor said, "very well. He has fallen in love with me."

Umbridge laughed. "So," she said, "the Prankster has been Pranked!"

"Indeed."

"Leave me now," Umbridge ordered. "And come back again tomorrow night."

Hermione Granger nodded her head and strode out the door.

* * *

**Second to last Chapter!**

**Review please? **


	8. The final Chapter

**The Final Chapter**

* * *

The news that Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger were dating seemed to have reached everybody's ears before they had even witnessed it.

George was most stunned when he saw the pair holding hands as they went for breakfast. But he didn't say anything. It seemed like whatever he said wasn't going to have an effect anyway.

Harry and Ron refused to acknowledge the pair as a couple. They both agreed that it was too sudden, and that it was a plan that the two of them cooked up.

But even though they continued to deny that their best friend and friend (or brother, in Ron's case) were in a relationship, there was no doubt that something was going on between the two.

Hermione smiled at Fred, turning in her seat so she was facing the front of the Hall. "Bacon?" she offered.

Fred nodded, and let Hermione feed him.

Beside them, Harry and Ron talked louder, while George continued to stare at them.

Yes, Fred Weasley was very much in love with Hermione Granger.

* * *

"Hermione, aren't you coming?" Ron asked her.

"I'll catch up with you later," she promised. "I have to ask the Professor something."

He shrugged, "okay. See you at lunch then!"

Hermione nodded and packed up her quill, parchment and textbook. She waited until the class had emptied before approaching the teacher.

* * *

There was that knock again.

"Enter," Umbridge said loudly.

The door was pushed open, and Hermione strode in.

This time, however, she was not alone.

"Mister Weasley!" Umbridge raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?"

Fred stuffed his hands in the pockets, and raised his eyebrow back at her. "Watching," he said, giving her a small smile.

Umbridge froze. "Watching?" She asked.

"Yes. Didn't you know that Hermione and I scheduled a little show for us tonight?"

Umbridge started to rise out of her chair, but a third person had entered the room, and she directed her wand at the self-proclaimed Headmistress.

"Dolores," McGonagall said, "it's been so eventful these couple of weeks, wouldn't you agree?"

Umbridge glanced at Hermione, whose expression a moment before showed all signs of compliance, was now burning with a fierce hatred.

"I'm no longer under your spell, Umbridge," Hermione spat at her.

"Miss Granger here told me a very interesting story," McGonagall continued to say, her wand still pointing at Umbridge's throat. "And, quick frankly, I'm disgusted. As a teacher, I cannot allow you to slander my student's name anymore. I cannot allow you to control them anymore. _And I will not let you twist their minds!_"

Fred and Hermione couldn't hear for wince at how angry their Deputy Headmistress sounded. Never had the woman sounded so angry and venomous.

With a flick of her wand, Umbridge was bound to her chair, and her wand confiscated. Only then did McGonagall lower her wand and allow herself to sit down.

"Miss Granger told me that several weeks ago, you put her under the imperius spell," the older woman said, "and made her hide herself in the library and write that horrible diary while Mister Weasley did his detention-which, if I remember correctly, something that you decided upon. You told Miss Granger to catch the attention of Mister Weasley, let him steal the diary and read it. You told her to hide her cat in Filch's office, and take the book back from Mister Weasley. You told her to send it, via owl, to Mister Malfoy. No doubt you trusted in his ability to boast and brag, so that the diary would be passed around. You were the one who told your precious little squad to broadcast the entries in the Great Hall, and told them to rewrite it if they wished to."

McGonagall leapt up from her chair and started pacing around.

"All this was to bring down a group of students who were loyal to Albus Dumbledore. But your goal wasn't just that, was it? One thing you hate most, apart from Muggleborns like Miss Granger, was the so-called 'Blood traitors'. No doubt using Miss Granger was not enough to satisfy your perverse needs, so you decided to humiliate a 'Blood Traitor' also. And who else, if not a member of the Weasleys?

So, Mister Weasley here drew your attention, no doubt because of the reading he so eloquently delivered-" McGonagall gave Fred a small Look, "so you chose him, and had Miss Granger come close to him, through the book. You ordered her to twist his mind, to make himself vulnerable to her. And when Mister Weasley was at his weakest, humiliate him beyond anything."

"Now, this part I'm a little… fuzzy," McGonagall turned to look at the two students, who were holding hands.

"The plan," Hermione said, "was to make Fred become a close friend of mine, and then, when I convinced him that I was innocent, have his entry displayed and turn my back on him."

"Yes," The professor said, eyes narrowing, "what a simple, perfect plan. Break an arm, and you cripple him, but break a heart and you kill him. How effective."

"But that plan backfired," Fred said, "because Hermione was beginning to fight the Imperius curse. She began to regain a bit of herself, and when she did, she tried to communicate to me."

"How?" Umbridge asked, her voice hoarse and dripping with hatred.

_Her brown eyes gazed up into his own blue ones, sending shivers down his spine. Fred tried to look away, but he found he couldn't-_

"Her eyes," Fred said simply. "Her eyes betrayed you. I was too stupid to figure out what she was trying to say at the time, but I slowly began to."

"Yes," Hermione sighed, "I tried to tell him, in the times when I could."

_Suddenly, those eyes that were so innocent before flashed and gave him a murderous stare._

"But I passed the odd times as, well, odd," Fred admitted. "Hermione was really frustrated now that I think back."

"And upset as to what I was forced to do," Hermione added.

_He turned the corner and stopped, because the object of his thoughts, the impetus of his wrath, was huddled up against the wall, sobbing her eyes out shamelessly._

"But I was still under the curse," Hermione continued, "and I kept on leading on Fred about the Inquisitorial Squad, and how my cat was kidnapped etc. etc."

"To stop him from being suspicious of you?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It was crucial that he was, at first, intrigued with me. But I had to prove that I was innocent if I was to make him like me."

"You didn't have to make me," Fred murmured. Hermione gave him a small smile.

"But then Fred started to figure things out. He hadn't read everything in the book. And when Malfoy gave him the book, Fred saw it. My message."

"Hermione wrote, at the beginning, to not 'judge a book by its cover'."

McGonagall blinked. "That was the message?"

Fred nodded, "part of it. When I threw it against the wall, the binding around the book loosened, and the cover came off. On the reverse of the cover, she wrote, 'Umbridge, Imperius.'"

"I didn't know if he had seen the message," Hermione said, "he was really angry."

"Yeah, well, I was just insulted, wasn't I? I didn't really think about what the two words really meant until I went back to the Common Room."

_He thought about those two words…_

"And when I went to get Crookshanks from Filch, I saw all the tattered pieces of parchment. Hermione had kept every letter that Umbridge had sent her, all her orders, and ripped it up, disguising it as Crookshank's work."

_A comfortable cat-sized room, complete with cushions, kitty toys, scratching posts, balls of string, and lots and lots of shredded parchments…_

"All but one," McGonagall said. "I found a piece of parchment lying around in the library. Unfortunately it wasn't enough as evidence."

_"_I read some and everything clicked into place- why Hermione didn't take back her wand, because she was afraid what Umbridge might force her to do next, why she didn't retrieve the book (I didn't believe the whole her-hands-will-get-burned-nonsense, it was just illogical), because Umbridge wanted her to let me have a look at it before giving it to the Inquisitorial Squad, why Hermione kept having these weird change of moods-everything.

And then yesterday, when I figured everything out, I realised that Umbridge was feeding Hermione some sort of Potion too- the same potion she tried to get me to drink. I don't know what it was, but I recognised the smell, and I tast- I mean, I smelt it on Hermione."

He didn't think mentioning that they kissed was appropriate in the situation they were in just now.

"Truth potion," Hermione said softly, "not very potent, but effective in some cases. The potion-drinker must answer truthfully to the person who gave them that potion. In small doses, the potion drinker will answer yes or no questions. In large doses, it can kill the person."

"To ensure that Granger was really obeying me," Umbridge muttered.

"Well, by then, the Imperius curse no longer affected Hermione," Fred said, "when we k- I mean, when I confronted her yesterday."

McGonagall tried not to smile. Imperius curse was very powerful, but weak against strong emotions and feelings. Determination, stubbornness, a very strong sense of what was wrong and right, and, of course, love, in its full strength, is strong enough to throw off the curse.

"And, well, Hermione stopped drinking the potion. She had to go to Umbridge's office to maintain appearances."

"Although," Hermione said, "I did answer quite truthfully. The Prankster was, indeed, pranked. Your plan backfired on you, Umbridge," she said triumphantly.

McGonagall threw some Floo Powder in the fire and called out "Minstry of Magic!"

"Come, Dolores," she said, waving her wand so the bound witch had to obey. "I have already consulted with the Head of the Law Department, and we both agree, with the evidence and witnesses, that you will be tried for your crimes and charged. You illegally fed another person with a banned potion, you failed as a teacher as you went against the oath and placed two students in danger, you performed the Imperius curse on an underage witch, no less, and you, without permission, published another person's work- have you heard about copyright? Publicly displaying a piece of another person's work is considered against the law, and though I'm sure Miss Granger had no intention of writing these things, she is still the author, and thus, and she did not give you the rights to own her work (she gave it to the Inquisitorial Squad, but you displayed it). All these crimes, Dolores. Pity."

She flicked her wand and sent Umbridge spinning into the fire. She looked back at Fred and Hermione.

"Well," she said at last. "Off to bed."

* * *

The next morning, at four am precisely, Fred sat down in his sofa, clutching a glass of water.

Hermione was beside him, deep in thought. They were both silent, listening to the crackles of the fire.

At last he opened his mouth. "She looked very angry. I have to say, good riddance though."

Hermione smiled grimly, "Her plan backfired against her."

Fred smiled grimly back. "You have to admit, it was a brilliant plan."

"No," Hermione said, suddenly angry. "It was a horrible, horrible plan!"

"It would've worked," he reminded her, "If we hadn't… If I hadn't…"

"Kissed me?" Hermione said drily.

"No," he answered seriously. "Fell in love with you."

This time her smile spoke of happiness. And despite himself, he found himself kissing her once again. She didn't pull back.

* * *

**A twist, no?**

**Review!**

**And yes, this story is complete! (Although I might go back and rewrite some things, because this story hasn't been edited much)**


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

Fred looked at Hermione.

"One thing doesn't make sense," he said.

"What?"

"The diary entry at the start, for example, and the two entries about Harry and Ron."

"Oh," Hermione looked embarrassed. "Not everything that I said was I lie. I really did write that back in fourth year."

Fred laughed.

Hermione scowled. "At least I don't spill water all the time."

He stopped laughing.

"How did she put the Imperius curse on you, anyway?" He steered the subject into safer waters.

"Library." Hermione said. "I was there- she found me-"

"You didn't defend yourself?"

"I couldn't! Not against the Unforgivable!"

"I can't believe Harry and Ron didn't know something was wrong with you."

"I can't believe that you fell in love with me," Hermione said thoughtfully, "because, at that time, I was writing mean, cruel things. Weren't you afraid of me?"

"I was," Fred admitted, "until I looked into your eyes."

"Oh yes," Hermione smiled, "My eyes. They really are the windows to the soul. I wonder what would have happened if you didn't look into them?"

"Then, I suppose, I will not be as happy as I am now."

A small moment of silence, then-

"If your diary entry at the start was all you, then that means that you really think that everybody around you is an idiot-"

"-I did, not now-"

"-and that you wanted to be a People Critic."

"-I'd still like to," she said thoughtfully.

Fred was stunned, "even after all this?" he asked.

"-Not writing criticisms," Hermione said, "Compliments. I'd like to judge people and see how many good things I can come up with."

"What would you write about me?"

"You?" Hermione thought for a moment. "Sneaky, I suppose, Curious, temperamental-"

"-Compliments," Fred reminded her.

"-Kind, Loyal," Hermione continued, smiling, "brave."

"Handsome," Fred prompted.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"Good kisser?"

But Hermione couldn't say, because he had already lowered his lips onto hers.


End file.
